Criminal Habits
by b4tmans
Summary: The story of a drug dealer who fights for what's right, and ends up falling for what is so very wrong. After all, she won't let him burn her city, even if he insists on making her his Queen. Bane/OC, slight AU.
1. Blind me

**I.**

_I want the lights to blind me, I want to disappear._

Flashes.

Gunshots.

Screams.

The passionate mantra dancing before her eyes was a terrifying one, and the small woman found herself slumped against the cement wall in a small room. Solitary, quiet, and alone, she found herself replaying the path she took to get here.

"_Deshi, deshi, basara, basara, deshi, deshi, basara, basara…_"

The chanting outside was distracting.

She buried her face into her hands. When her eyes closed, gray flashes of the nights replayed behind her lids. Hot breath, lips assaulting lips, fingers tugging and exploring. The bedroom was a battlefield, as was every other room in this god forsaken place.

"_Deshi, deshi, basara, basara, deshi, deshi, basara, basara…"_

He was not a monster, but a man looking for a way to make his mark. A man who wanted the Bat dead, much like everyone else. He was a human, not a beast. Sometimes, she felt as if she was the only one who thought so…

A sigh racked her frame. A hand tore through her hair and she felt tears prick her eyes…

The chanting stopped.

It was time.

Gotham was to be burned.


	2. Take me to the City

**II.**

_Take me down town tonight, I want to forget._

* * *

**3 months prior:**

Underneath the looming skyscrapers and luxury penthouses, the upscale apartments and multimillion dollar office buildings, there was a world unlike any other. During the day, average businessmen and women made the commute to the office, but when the sun vanished below the horizon, the filth of Gotham's underbelly scuttled out and flooded the streets. Rape, homicide and theft was the game, and the metropolis was their playing board.

Alley ways were crime hotspots, and no street corner went short of a scandalously dressed female. It was the nightlife, full of street races, sex, shootings and drug use.

Gotham city's crime rate shot up the weeks following the disappearance of the Bat. Men and women no longer feared a confrontation brought on by the masked vigilante, so the illegality that took reign over the streets was unstoppable. Gotham City's police department was in shambles. Commissioner Gordon, though a good man with righteous ideals, was leading a corrupted force. It was safe to safe one in every four officers was involved with something to do with the underground crime organizations littered about the city. In the last four weeks, Jim Gordon had lost 3 officers to the hands of gang members in lieu of the recent turf wars between crime families.

**It was perfect**. The worry of arrest was lifted off of the shoulders of many and the night was thriving with business.

Fiona Woods, a slender and tired looking woman, made the trek up her apartment building's stairs for the second time that day. She lived on the fifth floor of the run-down building, and as she passed various doors, she cringed. A scream, a moan, a clatter; a woman being attacked, release of a sexual pleasure, the dropping on a knife on the kitchen floor. Each room was plagued with the sound of variety and chaos. Fiona passed by a bullet hole ridden door and quirked her brow.

_Wasn't like that this morning,_ she shrugged. Unlocking the door to apartment 112b, she quickly shut the door behind her, throwing on the padlock and safety chain.

The drab, demure looking room was a mess. Various bottle of alcohol lined the entertainment center where an old TV rested, a crack along the upper right hand side of the screen. Medication, both subscribed and unsubscribed littered the floor, little orange bottle piled into various groupings. On the coffee table, a lighter and a pack of cigarettes rest next to one another, while a needle and a suspicious looking powder clouded the clarity of the glass.

Fiona Woods was a 24 year old drug dealer. She had been dealing things like weed, and cocaine for years, starting when she was about 16. Fiona grew up in the safety of the suburbs, but she craved a life of something more than block parties and straight A's. So, she ran away, living under her assumed name and avoiding the cops at all times. She had been arrested 5 times prior to moving in with Mag and changing her name. Possession of illegal substances was a two timer, while impersonating an office, trespassing and disturbing the peace made up the other arrests on her criminal record.

When she met Maggie Johnson, the suicidal coke addict was in a tough place. With time, Fio helped the woman back on her feet, and though she was still a crack head, she wasn't cutting herself anymore, and she no longer had the same violent urges she did. Mag, though she was born into a life of drugs, was much like an older sister to Fiona.

Flinging her coat off of her shoulders, Fiona called out, "Mag? You home?"

There was a scuffle in the kitchen, and sudden the door swung open and revealed a bleach blonde who was cradling a scrawny feline in her arms. The girl's black, thickly applied eyeliner was smudged and shambolic, signaling she had either been too drugged to do it right, or too hungover to fix it. Mag set the cat down, letting it scamper over to the food dish by the bathroom door.

"Hey, kid. How was work?" Mag tilted her head to the side before tugging on Fiona's dress, hiking it a bit higher on her chest, "Get any customers?"

The woman looked down and scowled. "I don't see why you insist on pullin' it up. There ain't any boobs to cover."

Mag laughed, the guttural noise echoing through the apartment.

"And no, I didn't get any customers. Cops choose to patrol down on Mass avenue, so I didn't even have th'chance."

Fiona kicked off her boots, leaving them in a crumpled heap by the kitchen's door, before making her way into the pantry in search of something edible. She stalked over to the fridge, opening and surveying her choices.

"Booze, booze, cheese, a couple slices of an apple, more booze, and a rotting piece of ham," Fiona griped, standing full height before slamming the fridge's door, "That's all we have?"

"Sorry, kid. Didn't have time to go shopping," mustered up the blonde at the edge of the counter, "I was busy making deals."

"Mag, c'mon. We need food in the house."

"Fio, we need money to pay for the food."

A frustrated sigh escaped her lips as she rolled her eyes. Fiona blinked before grabbing a glass from the cabinet and filling it with water from the sink.

"I'm going out. See if I can make some business. Cops shoulda left by now."

Mag grunted, her focus more on the recipe she was reading than her friend. Fiona figured it must have had something to do with the powder on the coffee table, so she exited the room quietly and pulled on her boots. Giving the cat a small pat, Fiona grabbed the cigarettes off the table and headed out, rushing down the stairs of her apartment complex.

Lighting her cigarette, Fiona puffed and pulled her jacket closer, listening to the click of her heels on the pavement. Pulling out her cellphone, she flipped open the screen, checking for any missed messages. A missed call indicator popped up and she dialed her voice mail before waiting.

"_Hey, you've reach Fio. M'not hear right now so if y'could leave a name, message and a number, that'd be great. Thanks,_" the answering machine gave a few instructions before there was beep and the message began, "_Hey! Fio. You gotta get down here. We're at Filagio's and a few Rogues are here. Joker's boys are here with a few others. You know how business is when they're around. You gotta get here now._"

The message ended and Fiona almost broke into a sprint, rushing as fast as she could down main street, trying not to bump into anyone she didn't want to scuffle with. Filagio's was a large club where many of Gotham's scum choose to spend their time. More than once, Fiona had spotted Jonathan Crane or even Salvatore Maroni. They were always the best customers, willing to delve into the bad and willing to pay a good price.

As she yanked open the door, she came face to face with the woman who had left the message on her phone.

Gem was a curvy girl, only 21, whose make-up was almost as horrid as Mag's. Gem was a proud Gothamite, and the young woman worked in the field of paid sex. Often, she would work the corner where her apartment building was, and that was how the young woman met her in the first place. Gripping her handbag and fixing her hair, Gem gave Fiona a pearly white grin.

"It's the new guy. The one with the mask? Yeah. I know, but hey, don't give me that look. It'll be fine. Strike up a convo. Maybe he'll go for you. He hasn't taken any interest in any of my girls. And we've been trying all night. Maybe a bad girl will rev him up, eh?" the words kept flying out of Gem's mouth, "He's gunna pay well, we already now that. But, you gotta get him goin', kay gurly?"

Fiona gave a nod before pressing on, exiting the lobby and entering the club. Gem was at her heels, following closely. The deep bass rocked the dimly lit building as lights danced across the walls in sporadic ways, illuminating the dancing and close proximity of everyone. On stage, a woman paraded around a single pole, shaking and dancing while men below cat called and threw money on stage.

Gem and Fiona passed a bar fight, dodging punches as they ducked up the stairs to the catwalks above the dance floor. The overwhelming stench of smoke, perfume and sweat radiated in their faces with each step. On the upper floor, men in suits littered the railings, smoke and drinking and chatting. Fiona passed a rather familiar looking man who had a woman wrapped around his waist. He leered, his hair a mess before spilling his drink on Gem. She leapt back, her eyes on fire.

Fiona tugged her along, avoiding the lustful gazes of businessmen and criminals alike.

That's when she spotted _him._

A masked face was placed atop of broad shoulders and large arms, which were crossed over his chest as he reclined back in a chair. His feet were up, donned in combat boots. He had a t-shirt on, but a bullet proof vest covered his bulky chest. The mask on his face looked like a spider was crawling out of his mouth, and for a split second, shivers ran down her spine. His eyes were flying around his surroundings as henchmen drank and laughed loudly.

Gem went first, barging through a pair of henchmen to the man on his throne. His finger latched onto his arm and she giggled, pointing to Fio. They exchanged small talk, but, the man didn't look as if he was interested.

Fiona was given a small smile by Gem, who waved her forward. Taking a step forward, she was roughly shoved back, her jacket's collar gripped by a huge underling who donned a tattooed forehead and a crooked nose.

He grunted at her, grabbing her shoulders roughly and pushing her back once more, Fiona shot him a glare, and he chuckled.

"Where you think you're going, pretty girl?" she was pinned against the railing, "I don't think boss is _lookin'_ for any entertainment tonight. But, me and my buddies sure are…"

"Oh, please. Like I'd want to entertain any of _you_, you ugly fucks," she mustered up, a bit of menace seeping into her tone.

Before Fiona could even react, a punch was delivered to her jaw and she was sent to the ground, her shoulder breaking the fall. Gem screamed, and for a second, Fio thought she saw the man next to her straighten. Fio had knocked into a man, who thought the woman beside him had shoved him. That man was untop of the woman who kicked another girl, sending her and her tray of drinks toppling over onto an unsuspecting man.

The club was now a flurry of violent activities.

She shook her head and spit on the deck's floor, sending a bloody glob of saliva onto a man's shoe. Rolling onto her stomach and picking herself up. A slew of curses flew out of her mouth as she craned her neck and groaned.

A foot was planted on her back and she felt herself fly forward. Fiona called out, diving into one of the tables, her face making contact with the metal bar below. She screamed before gripping her nose and shakily making her way onto her feet.

The men were approaching, and quickly, Fiona reached over and grasped an suspecting man's beer, smashing it over the railing, leaving the broken and shattered bottom as a weapon. The man in the suit screamed at her, and quickly, she pointed the bottle at him. With hands raised he backed off.

Before any moves were made, the masked man stood, calling to his men.

"Ah, ah, ah. I believe that's enough, boys… You've gone and scared the poor thing," he laughed, making his way through the crowd to Fiona whose broken bottle was still raised, "Now, dear, if you'd be _so kind_, drop the bottle. I'd like to have a word with you."

Fio stiffened as the man approached her. He towered over her, and with one hand clasping down on her shoulder, Fiona found it hard to care about her bloody nose.

He gave a chuckle before steering her to a nearby table.

"I'd like to offer you a job…"


	3. Run Away Horses

**III.**

_A foreign hand and run-away horses…_

The second the door opened to the apartment, Mag stood. The blonde had been worried sick, pacing and crying and calling Fiona's phone repeatedly. The blonde was gripping Melon, the small tabby cat and stroking his fur furiously.

Melon dropped to the ground with a small meow before trotting off in the direction of the kitchen, aware of the coming of a storm between the two women who owned the apartment. The blonde's hands flew to her hips and the cigarette hung from the corner of her mouth as she puffed a cloud of smoke into the air, only for it to be swept up by the fan on the ceiling and dispersed across the room.

Fiona kicked her boots off and rushed in, a grin plastered on her bruised and bloodied face.

Mag gasped.

"Mag I gotta—"

"What the fuck happened to you?" The older woman rushed forward, her eyes widening at Fiona's now swollen nose and black eye. She grasped her friend by the hand before tugging her into the kitchen and kicking Melon out of the way, earning a rather surprised garbled noise from the overweight feline.

Mag rummaged through the fridge clumsily before coming across a piece of frozen pizza. Tugging it out of the freezer, she carelessly threw it to Fiona before commanding she put it on to help the swelling.

Fiona just stared at it.

"Pizza? Really?" the lanky woman asked, a smile floating across her face, "Why don't we use some _ice_?"

Mag's mouth formed an 'o' as she clutched the pizza and took a bite out of it, shrugging nonchalantly before grabbing bag of ice. Placing it in Fiona's hands, the blonde put her pizza down, not even sparing the cat a glance as it hopped onto the counter and began to nibble at the food.

"Where were you last night? I called you at least 30 times. I was worried you had been killed or raped or mugged or kidnapped or—"

"Mag. I'm fine. Listen, I met this guy—"

"You met a _guy_? Really?" Mag leaned forward, shock written across her features, "Is he a dealer to? Maybe a customer—"

"Mag, shut up. Listen. I met a guy an' he offered me a _job._"

Mag's brow furrowed. "I don't like this."

"Neither did I, 'til he explained who he was," she muttered, giving Melon a pat as he mewed for attention.

"That still doesn't explain your face, kid."

"One of his guys threw me into a table. No biggie. But, anyways, this guy's name is Bane—"

"Bane. Like, _the_ Bane?" Mag screeched, "No. Nooo, no no no. Nope. No way kiddo. You're not going down that road."

"200 dollars a week, Mag."

The blonde straightened and popped her lips. "Okay. Alright. Maybe you _can_ go down that road. What's the catch?"

"Uh, I gotta help him kill the Bat and burn Gotham?"

"Burn like…?"

"I think he meant figuratively _and_ literally."

Mag nodded, shrugging before a frown pulled on her features. She scooped Melon up, earning a small garble of frustration from the Tabby. He began to squirm, his paws flying about in a rapid and dire manner. Mag rolled her eyes and hoisted the feline over her shoulder, much like a child and rubbed his back.

"I dunno, Fio… 200 dollars a week seems a bit shady… And what about your deals? You can't just _quit_."

Fiona frowned. "I'm gunna keep dealin', Mag. I gotta. Every week, I'll come home an' bring you the money. From the deals _and _the burning of Gotham," Fiona laughed a little when she said this, "How bad could it be, Mag?"

Mag scowled, her eyes flicking over Fiona's face.

"Just don't die, okay?"


	4. Awkwakened by the Dragons

**IV.**

_In a deep sleep, awakened by the dragons..._

Her name was Miranda Tate.

Miranda Tate was the first person she met at the compound.

The woman, tall and beautiful with long brown curls, was clinging onto Bane's arm. Fiona's dark eyes flew over the couple as she made her way across the gravel to the large cement building ahead of her. She kept her eyes down, and when Miranda's laughter filled the air, a scowl tugged violently at the drug dealers sullen face.

The crunch of rocks beneath her boots were oddly calming to her, and as she lugged her small bag of belongings over her shoulder, she could feel the looming thickness of anticipation in the air. Men and women from all over Gotham were here, making the trek to Bane's hideout. They had been recruited, weeded out and chosen to join the masked man's army. Fiona swallowed thickly as she approached the rickety iron gate leading to the compound.

She was in too far over her head, and as she froze up, she knew she was going to die in this place.

The morning mist lingered close to the ground after the night's rain. The sky was white, clouds blurring the sky, making it impossible to tell if it was day or morning. She shuffled, her fingers curling around the black iron making up gate.

Fiona blinked.

Realization hit her like a car hit a brick wall, throwing its passenger through the windshield. Fiona, mere hours ago comforting her distraught friend, was now in a world where her life didn't matter. and she was just another body being used for destruction. She realized she wasn't getting out of this place. At least, not alive. Even then, she doubted, they would rid her from the compound. If she died, she was dying here, and she knew it.

Fio flinched as a body bumped into her, knocking her forward.

Shaking her head, she huffed, following the serious crowd into the compound.

Her eyes flew about, eyeing the men and women around her. Addicts, prostitutes, bouncers... They're all criminals. She could tell. FIona knew one when she saw one, and right now, she was neck deep in their company.

Her shoulder made contact with someone and her head whipped around.

It was _her._

"Excuse me..." her voice, low and quiet and dangerous all the same, split the silent air. Every eye broke away from the ground and rose to see the scene between Fiona and Ms. Tate.

"I'm s-sorry. I wasn't looking where I was going..." Fiona cursed. Apologizing? Really? She knew apologizing was a sign of weakness. It was going to put her down in this place.

Miranda's hand broke from Bane's arm before snatching the skinnier woman's face.

"What a pity..." her fingers gripped her cheeks so hard, Fiona was sure it would leave bruises, "A pretty face like yours, broken like that..."

Tate released her with a scoff and pushed her along, earning a slight chuckle from Bane.

Fiona's eyes met the ground once more as she grabbed her bag and scurried off, her eyes never once turning back. She silently wished for her death in this place to be swift and painless, but the woman knew it wasn't going to be that easy.

It was dark inside the compound. Her brown eyes flicked around the cement walls, searching for any indicator of comfort.

She found none.

Her brow furrowed as a line began to form.

Bane, who was now inside of the compound with them, let his voice rise above the thick, musty air.

"Ladies and gentleman... The process you're about to go through is something of a.. _promise_... to me that you'll be loyal. You'll be branded. A small tattoo. A _token_ of your servitude..."

Fiona twitched.

There really was no getting out now.

The line went slowly, and Fiona found herself cursing with every inch she gained to the men with the ink. After what seemed like a year, Fiona was upfront, the fabric of her shirt being tugged up roughly and her arm being held by the man branding her arm. She swallowed, her eyes clenching tightly as a simple outline of a bat was inked into her pale skin. When the man was done, he waved her off.

She glanced down at her arm, her dark blonde bangs obstructing her view.

The skin was already red and the pain was already sinking in.

* * *

That night, when she had finally gotten to sleep, there was a loud bang just outside of her room.

Fio sat straight up, her eyes searching around the dark room frantically. The three other girls she had been bunked with were now up and about, their eyes glued to the light drifting in from the bottom of the door.

There was another thud, and then a few men spoke.

"Some of 'em can't even take tha' first night, boys. You'll see. Once the trainin' starts, they'll be droppin' like flies. All of 'em."

Fiona laid back down, tears clustering at the corner of her eyes.

_How bad could it be...?_

* * *

**A/N:  
**

**Miranda Tate, played by Marion Cotillard, has been rumored to be portraying Talia Al Ghul, Ra's Al Ghul's daughter.  
**

**Anyways, expect more soon, training is about to start.  
**


	5. Dead End

**V.**

_Was not prepared for a dead end..._

Fiona wasn't built like a wall, but was built more like a pole.

She was skinny, almost unnaturally. Most would speculate it was the drugs, but Fiona didn't do the drugs anymore. Fiona _did _the drugs when she first started dealing them, but the long nights and restless withdrawals made her job even harder than it should have been, so she stopped. She handed the candy out to the kids who wanted it, but never indulged herself. She had seen what could happen.

Over dosages were her biggest fear.

Fiona rarely ate. It wasn't because she didn't want to or anything. No, no, _no._ She loved food. Food was great. Having the money for it was the problem. Fio knew at the end of the every week there would be a rent to pay, a drug Mag needed, or a fine she needed to pay. Food didn't factor into her life's equation, so pizza and take out every few days was enough. She really didn't mind, after all, she was _alive._

But, as she was shoved into an elevator with other men and women who were much larger than her, she could only feel the looming fact that she was at a loss.

She shuffled her feet, her dark eyes scanning the silent elevator. The yellow lights above buzzed slightly as the elevator jumped, and the number on top of the door illuminated a simple '0'.

_0? _Fiona's brow furrowed, _Floor 0._

"C'mon, everybody out. Let's go."

A gruff voice accompanied the slow drizzle of bodies out into the dark room. Fiona could make out a light down the end of the hall. Armed men stood on watch as the group of people flooded the empty room. Suddenly, footsteps silenced the eager crowd.

"Welcome, once again, my lovely _pets,_" the voice croaked, "I'd like to congratulate all of you. You've made it this far. Today, though, will most likely be an end for all of you."

The voice paused as panicked looks stirred throughout the room.

"_Two _of you will move forward."

Fiona paled.

Two.

Out of the whole goddamn room of 30 people?

Bane's boots shuffled as he motioned for one of the newbies to move forward. It was a girl and her body went rigid as the large Goliath gripped her face.

"You must not be _weak_. You must be _smart._ You must be able to _kill,_" he paused and turned to the girl, "You can do that, can't you?"

She froze up, her answer delayed.

Bane's eyes narrowed and the room's temperature dropped.

"You _can _do that, _can you not_, dear?"

She nodded quickly.

Bane didn't believe her.

"Get rid of her."

The woman's eyes widened as two armed men stepped forward, dragging her off. Her pleads ricocheted off of the walls, and as Bane continued without a care in the world, Fiona knew she was going to die today.

"You will be placed in a large open room. 30 feet by 30 feet. Cement walls will line each side. There will be weapons placed in the middle of the circle. Seven knives, and one hand gun," Bane's hands clasped behind his back, "When two of you are left, you shall stop fighting and joined me above the room, and the next group will follow your example. At the end of the day, I shall have 10 men and women. These men and women will be my... _personal_ assistants."

He gave a small chuckle before throwing open the heavy metal doors to the left.

"Make me proud."


	6. Now It's My Blood

**The following chapter contains violence and gore.**

* * *

**VI.**

_I did not see it coming. Now it's my blood..._

She was beginning to panic.

Fiona took a deep breath.

Scenarios were running through her head. She was going to be stabbed by the huge monster at the edge of the room who had been eyeing her ever since Bane sent them into the room or maybe the skinny creep with the mohawk was going to shoot her in the head. Maybe she would be stabbed in the face. Maybe the chest. Maybe the back. What if she was knocked unconscious by the rough looking girl behind her?

Dark eyes broke away from the pistol in the middle of the room as they all lined up against the farthest wall.

Fiona knew she wouldn't fare against any of these people if she just jumped in. She wasn't stupid, but Fiona certainly wasn't a Harvard graduate. She hadn't even graduated high school for god's sake. But, if there was one thing Fiona was, it was street smart. She knew her way around street fights, and Fiona reasoned that if she treated this like an actual street fight, she may actually make it out of this.

Her head swiveled to the right, and she made eye contact with rather frantic looking girl. Their eyes met, and Fiona swallowed.

"Want an alliance? I'll help you," Fiona sputtered, her eyes flying about as she lowered her voice, "I know my way around fights. Just don't jump in right away. Wait until the eager kids get killed off, I guess..."

The girl shook her head after a moment, her hand jutting out to meet hers.

"Truce."

"Truce."

The buzzer sounded, and suddenly, more than half of the room rushed forward, their fists flying. Fiona, beginning to feel a adrenaline in her veins, stuck close to the wall along with the blonde woman next to her.

There were already bodies on the floor, and as a small, lithe man grasped the hand gun, he loaded it quickly, firing off a shot.

Everyone in the room scattered and ducked, like ants running from a giant foot that was moving to stomp them into the ground. The bullet, however, tore through the flesh of a woman, her screamed becoming blood cold shrills. The blonde next to her screamed, her hand covering her mouth as another bullet tore into the woman's face, silencing her. A pool of blood was forming around her.

The man looked up, searching for a redeeming look from Bane, who had been monitoring them. He showed no reaction, only the simple blink of his eyes.

It suddenly dawned on her.

Bane wasn't looking for shows of brute strength and cold bloodlust. He was looking for strategy. For intelligence in this kind of field.

"C'mon. Lay down. Like this." Her voice was low, shaking. Her eyes stayed glued to the pavement as she watched the center of the room. Reaching to her pant leg, the skinny female rolled up her jeans, pulling out a small pocket knife.

Bane never said they could use their own weapons.

She motioned for the girl next to her to hold her hand out. The silver on the knife dug into her flesh, slashing the palm and letting a thick crimson liqui spew from it.

"Put it on your chest. Face too."

It was difficult, she reasoned, cutting her own hand. Her hands were shaking so bad from the adrenaline as more gunshots broke the air to her left. Her breath was ragged as she laid her head down and closed her eyes, playing possum.

She didn't want to be dead, but, Fio highly doubted they were going to check the bodies. she just hoped no one saw them.

Her heart skipped a beat as a man ran up beside her kicking bodies over, frantically searching for a weapon. Fiona cursed and fear suddenly struck her so hard, she couldn't move.

It probably saved her life.

She calmed up as the man stopped by her.

She held her breath.

His hands pried her pocket knife from her.

He quickly joined the scuffle in the middle of the room.

Fiona did know how long it took. Years, maybe? Finally the gunshots stopped, and there were two voices stirring in the middle of the room.

Fiona paled.

They had to get up.

They had to.

She turned her head quickly, noticing the two men turned their back to them. They had placed their weapons down on the pedestal beside them. They were idling chatting, wondering when Bane would come down to get them. Fiona flicked her head to the blonde next to her. Slowly motioning to her, she rose as quietly as possible, her hands shaking as her shoes met the ground.

It was a mass of blood and bodies, littering the bloody floor.

Fiona almost threw up.

She kept her head down, ducking behind the looming figure of the large cement block which held the knives and gun.

Suddenly, one of the men turned around, and Fiona dropped to the ground, followed closely by her companion.

"Did you hear that?"

"Huh?"

"I thought I heard footsteps."

"Naw, man. It's your adrenaline."

Fiona gasped for air as they turned around once more, speaking of simple pleasures, like food and movies.

Scampering quickly to the pedestal, Fiona through her hand over, grabbing a knife and the gun. She held them out to the woman beside her, a grin planted firmly on her features.

"Take your pick."

Her hand quickly snatched the knife.

Fiona swallowed.

She had the gun.

The woman clearly knew she wouldn't have had to do anything with the knife, after all, it was too high of a risk to run up and stab. She took the knife so she didn't have to kill.

_That was smart._

Pushing the aspect of missing to the far reaches of her mind, Fiona took a shaky breath, trying to reduce the shaking in her hands. Her legs were jello and her ears were pounding. She stood quickly, the gun drawn and pointed at both men.

"Hey, fuckheads."

They spun around, their eyes wild with anger and fear and other emotions.

Fiona quickly pulled the trigger.

It sent the first one reeling backwards, the bullet tearing through his neck with a loud pop. Fiona's eyes widened.

Fiona froze. She had shot him. She killed was dead, bleeding out on the cold floor at her feet. She shot him because she was going to be killed herself. It wasn't a worthy reason. Not at all. But, she figured, with her past, there was no way she was going to Heaven. It didn't matter anyway, she assumed. After all, this place was Bane's home, and this place was the embodiment of Hell. there was no way she going to Heaven if she was already in Hell.

She was knocked from her thinking when the second man was screaming, throwing himself at her. He had an old face and thinning hair, but the tattoos that decorated his face made her cringe. Gang member, most likely.

She fired once more, the bullet planting itself in his gut. He was sent flying backwards, his hands gripping his abdominals as a thick dark liquid seeped from her shirts and smeared itself onto his hands in a manner that would have suggested Fiona had ruptured a artery when she shot him. She thought nothing of it.

It was odd how normal the shooting was becoming. It felt normal. Just pulling a trigger and the bullet solved her problems and stopped the danger.

She went to fire again, but there was only a click.

One click. Two clicks. Three clicks. No more ammo.

She turned to the woman with the knife.

"Just cut his throat. Make it quick," Fiona stuttered, the situation becoming surreal.

And so she did. She leaned over and did it. One quick motion.

The room was silent.

"Maybe we should check bodies. Those idiots didn't and look where it got them.," the woman muttered, wiping her hands on her pants.

Fiona's eyes scanned the floor, and she nodded. "Y-Yeah. Sure."

Kicks to every single body. That's what it was. Roll the ones laying face down over. Make eye contact. Look at the dead. Make sure they were dead. Look for wounds. Fiona almost passed out when she came across a young man whose face had been shot.

It was a mess.

He didn't have an eye.

"Ladies..."

The door to the left slammed open, and the man running the show appeared.

"I must say..." he paused, his hand catching the blonde's shoulder, "That was very impressive. Tactical. It would be a horrendous thing if your talent went to waste. Such gems you two are."

Fiona almost laughed before she through the knife on the table and dropped the gun next to it.

"You, Fiona, you cheated."

She paled.

"You never said we couldn't use our own weapons, sir."

His fist suddenly made a solid connection with her jaw.

Fiona paled as she made contact with the floor. She was certain she would have a broken jaw. She thought she lost all of her teeth. Blood was already meeting her taste buds, and she moaned, her hands gripping it as her eyes frantically tore into every single person in the room.

She was certain she was going to die now. It was just her luck. She would have survived the true test, and then be beaten to death for using something not allowed. Fiona had always had bad luck, but in the last couple days, her bad luck and become worse luck.

"Get up."

She stumbled to her feet, clutching her jaw.

"Let this be a lesson. For you as well, Emily. Cheating shall never prove to the winning option. You shall always be burdened with the thought that you did not beat the odds fairly, and that you, in fact, beat the system."

"I think beating _this_ system is something I _should _be proud of," Fiona muttered, the metallic taste of blood already evident in her mouth.

Bane's hands clenched.

"I advise you keep your mouth shut, Ms. Woods. It seems to be getting you nowhere lately."

She paled.

Her encounter with Ms. Tate.

_Right._

Bane motioned for them to move forward. "Come on. There are more who are ready to fight. Let them have their time."

It was official. She was a bad guy now. Fiona Woods was a killer.

She almost smiled.

* * *

**Journey's just began, now. Stay tuned. The strong have been weeded out and now it's time they're put together. It's also time they spend time with Bane, which may prove difficult for a certain woman...**


	7. Restless Doubt Heart

**VII.**

_Restless doubt heart in a vision._

"Well, well. If it isn't little Ms. Woods. I'm surprised to see y'made it, Skinny."

Fiona visibly twitched, the ice pack pressed firmly against her jaw as she rolled her shoulders back and reclined on the cold couch.

It was odd. Bane, though not one for interior decorating, had his own quarters and area around it made to be rather comfortable. A leather couch, a white rug, a television. It was a step-up from the normal concrete walls and wet floors of the warehouse. Truth be told, she expected nothing less than this from it. The compound was located on the outer stretch of Gotham, lingering on the city's line. It was a key spot, Fiona reasoned, because Police jurisdictions most likely conflicted. Less police traffic, less problems.

But, now that the team had been picked, there was an odd air of flight. It was almost as if now that the weeding was done, they were quickly moving on to bigger and better things. Fiona flinched.

Bane probably had a schedule.

"Hey, Skinny. I'm talkin' to you."

Fiona flinched a hand made contact with the back of her head. Throwing the ice pack onto the coffee table, she spun around.

It was the same crooked nosed, tattoo faced bastard her broke her nose at the club.

Clenching her fists, Fiona resisted the urge to punch his right then and there, knowing it would only lead to worse things.

"Your face still looks like shit. You should probably get that nose checked out. Almost as crooked as mine," he rasped, a laugh coming from his throat.

He was big, with a bald head and a mustache lurking under his large nose. The caucasian man was dressed in a rough looking t-shirt and jeans, while boots covered his feet. She scowled as he flexed his arms, the tattoo of a naked woman dancing across the skin there.

_Classy._

"Checkin' me out, babe?" he sneered, his grey eyes twitching wildly, "I ain't into scrawny bitches. Grow a pair a' breasts and we'll talk."

_How dare he... Only Mag was allowed to call her flat chested._ She snarled, her fists clenched as tightly as her teeth.

When he laughed, Fiona made an advance forward but was stopped by a sturdy arm blocking her way. Fio's dark eyes followed the forearm upwards and flicked up to the face of a worn looking woman. She was a blonde who frequently had her hair dyed.

Fiona could only tell from the greying roots at the top of her head.

Her nose looked like a bad plastic surgeon had a go at it, while highly defined cheekbones plagued her tired looking face. The make-up under her eyes was heavy, and Fiona almost thought she had a black eye. Her shirt, though not very modest, was a simple vest. High heeled boots dug into the white carpet, leaving define imprints.

"C'mon, hun. He ain't worth your time," her gaze turned towards the other man now, "Scram, Riot. You're more of problem than a help."

The room went silent as he grumbled something about the woman being a dirty whore before leaving, slamming the double doors to the room in frustration.

All 10 pairs of eyes in the room turned to the woman. Breaking away from Fiona, the blonde went to stand in front of the television, her hands on her hips. She searched the room for something unknown before sighing, noticing the awkward tension.

"Hiiii everyone."

Silence.

"Well. Alright. Hi," she muttered, her brows raising for a split second as she realized the toughness of the crowd, "I'm Trish. You guys can call me Trish, or Aunty. Everyone here does."

Fiona scowled. _Nicknames. Great._

"I'll be watchin' over you bunch until Bane shows up with some _real _jobs. It's my duty ta' get ta' know every one a' ya's," she smiled, displaying poorly whitened teeth, "So, startin' right now, let's get ta' know one anotha'."

She waved her hands at Fiona motioning her to move over on the couch. She complied, letting the woman sit by her and clap a hand on her jeaned leg.

"All right, Skinny. You first. Name, age, and … uh... why don't we do... _profession_?"

Fiona twitched, her hand fiddling with the icepack. "Fiona Woods, 27. I'm a drug dealer. Or was. I'm not really sure anymore."

Trish made a face, her mouth turning into an 'o'. "Exciting! And you?"

The woman beside Fiona on the couch paled slightly.

"Name's Brooklyn Sweet. You can call me Brooky. I, uh, I'm 21... and I was a prostitute." She was busty with flaming red hair and terrible make-up. Fiona only figured as much when it came to her profession. She'd seen enough alive and dead in the streets to know one.

"Greg Harper. 25. Taxi driver." Fiona narrowed her eyes. The dark skinned man was rather small, but he had a jumpy look to him, like he was always alert and ready to run.

"Michael Sanchez. I go by Mike. I'm 27, and I'm ex-police with my partner here." The handsome man jutted his finger in the direction of the woman next to him. Both looked stone cold and quick. Fiona had no doubt that they were corrupt on the police force. Either they were ratted out, or decided to ditch the business.

Fiona almost felt bad for Commissioner Gordon, but then she remember he was a cop and would arrest her on sight. _Eh. _

"My name's Becca Heart. 22 and ex-police with Mike."

"M'Davey Breaker. Ex-mobsta' and sittin' on the age of 34." The way the older man said 'tirty-foah' made her cringe, almost as much as his fur trimmed jacket.

"Evan Magla. 25. Bouncer for Filagio's." Fio made a face. He certainly was big enough to be a bouncer. She also figured he could kill someone with how spiked his hair was.

"Meghan Diver. I'm 25 and I... I guess I'm a thief? Pickpockets, wallets, that kinda thing." It was the blonde Fiona had formed an alliance with only a day ago. She nodded. Funny. Meg. Reminded her of Mag. Fiona inwardly cursed, remembering she was due for a visit... Her eyes snapped back to Meg as she waved a bit at Fiona, a small smile on her face.

The drug dealer only smiled for a second.

"Uh... James Barnes. Don't call me Jimmy though. I'm 22 years old, and I'm a prostitute."

The room went silent for a second, only coming back to life when Aunty Trish spoke.

"Well. That's pretty different, James. God bless ya'. Someone's gotta entertain tha' ladies."

James paled. "Men pay me for sex."

Fiona almost laughed out loud at how uncomfortable every man got in the room.

Trish blinked, "Wow. That... I never would have... Alright. Hey. Whateva' floats ya' boat, alright? As long as ya' happy, tha's how I see it."

Trish clapped again, her eyes scanning the room. She quickly stood, a smile playing across her face. "It is fantastic to meet you all. I am Trish, 45 and wife to one of Bane's trusted henches."

Suddenly, Brooky the busty hooker spook up. "Wait, woah, woah woah. There a' supposed ta' be ten a' us."

Mike looked around, "There's only nine."

"Well... My dears... Mr. Roker seemed to have a small problem with the current... _wager._ He took it up with Bane..." her tongue clicked and her eyes darkened, "That's not something you do."

Fio leaned back, clutching her ice pack and looking down.

"So he's dead," Greg, the jumpy kid, spoke up, "Just like that. First day on the job."

Trish straightened, "Everyday ya'll are here will be a struggle to survive. Hazin', fights and accidents happen. Ya're going to have to overcome it all if y'want ta' join this family."

Fiona frowned. She really was in the house of Bane.

Well, at least it was family.

* * *

**A/N:**

**Music playlists will be coming soon for this story. I'm working on it. Character profiles and pictures will be put up as well. I will tell the few of you who follow this story when they're completed. Reviews and such are greatly appreciated!  
**

** -Hope  
**


	8. Before the Rain Began

**VIII.**

_Before the rain began..._

They had been told they were moving only fives days after Trish had introduced them all to one another.

In those five days, Fiona had learned some of the most important things she had in a very long time and most likely the most important things she would learn as an adult.

"You're not holding it right, Skinny," Mike piped up, his eyes darting across her slim figure, analyzing the sloppy way she gripped the small handgun. The Italian cringed as Skinny, a new nickname endowed by Trish, rolled her shoulders and eyed him. The woman pursed her lips in an aggressive manner as the group of adults laughed from their perches behind the ex-cop and drug dealer.

Fiona narrowed her eyes at Brooky, who was slapping her leg and cackling loudly. "Ha, ha, ha, Brooky," Fiona quipped, lowering the gun and turning to snark at the woman.

Mike raised his hand, waving Brooky off. "Hey, Skins. C'mon. Focus. Alright. Steady. Raise your arm. Keep it straight. Brace it."

Fiona shook her bangs out of her face, letting the orange-blonde strands cluster at the side of her head. She narrowed her eyes once more and pursed her lips, carefully aiming down the sights. She slowly tugged on the trigger, her eyes snapping closed as the gun sprang backwards, a loud crack erupting from its bowels. There was a solid thud as the bullet lodged itself in the large tree, 6 feet away from the can she was aiming from.

"You missed," Mike muttered, making a sour face.

Fiona groaned. "I missed."

"Fiona, hun, no offense, but y'suck at the whole 'aimin' thing," Trish muttered, crossing her legs as she rested in the open back of a white van. The door was swung open, revealing a gutted out back.

Fiona grumbled, cocking the gun once more and aiming for the 6th time that afternoon.

"Ah, ah, ah. I know what it is. Your eyes."

"Yeah. I see with 'em. What about it?" Fiona snapped.

Brooky snorted and James, the literal embodiment of sass, made a loud 'meow', clawing at the air. Trish laughed, shaking her head at the two. Meghan only shook her head, enjoying the show.

"You right handed? Or left handed?"

Fiona scowled, "Left."

Quickly closing her right eyes, Mike leaned back on his heels.

Fiona looked at the large Italian man with one eye open. He pointed to the can resting on top of the iron fence post. She sighed angrily.

She pulled the trigger.

A ting.

Opening her eyes with a grin on her face, she found the can still resting on top of the fence post. She growled lightly, closing her right eyes once more.

Fiona pulled the trigger and a loud ting echoed through the afternoon's air.

She grinned.

* * *

"C'mon kid. Bring it on. Throw yourself at me," it was Riot saying this, the man with the tattooed face and crooked nose.

The past 3 days Riot and Fiona had run into one another more than a few times, and with a forced bonding session brought on by Trish, Riot was now becoming... not a friend. No, Fiona wouldn't say that. She was, though, beginning to forget about the fact that he through her into a table and broke her nose, making it a lot more crooked than it was.

Riot rose his hands, motioning her forward.

Fiona did as she was told.

With two quick strides Fiona was within inches of him. Her hand flew to his abdomen, heading in for a punch. Instead, her fist was grabbed and twisted violently behind her. She cried out, her arm twisting uncomfortably. She could feel the muscles resist the tension as he continued to push.

Screaming out, she wrenched her arm from his grasp, stumbling back and gasping in pain. She rushed forward again, fueled by anger.

With a swift movement, Riot's arm was out in front of him. It made rough contact with Fiona's face, and the last thing she saw before she hit the ground was the messily inked tiger tattooed into his forearm.

Fio groaned loudly, clutching her head as she rolled around on the cement floor of the open room.

Riot frowned.

"Get up, kid," he offered his hand and Fiona took it, "You gotta be able to take a punch. so we're going to practice."

"Practice?"

"Yeah. Bane's seen how y'fight. He don't like it. An' when Bane don' like something, he fixes it."

"Bane doesn't like _me_."

"Yea'. He'll fix that, too."

* * *

"We are moving out."

The room snapped into silence.

Bane's hulking figure loomed dangerously over the back of the couch. Fiona could almost feel his dark gaze as his boots stepped against the rug, a muffled stomp meeting her ear. To say she was uncomfortable under his gaze was an understatement, but when she mustered up the courage to turn around and direct _her_ gaze at him, he quickly avoided her and continued pacing.

No one spoke, until Trish cleared her throat.

"So, y'want us t'start packing, sir?"

Bane stopped, clasping his hands behind his back.

"Pack lightly. We will be breaking in and taking a mob's penthouse. Let's just say... We want in and out with brevity and no accidents. These men owe me a favor."

"So guns?"

"Yes."

Bane eyed the 9 men and women before his eyes rested on Fiona. His shoulders bobbed, signally a laugh, but no sound came out. He turned on his heel and exited the room leisurely.

Fiona scowled.

Time for the first job.


	9. The End

**A/N: I don't live in Aurora, Colorado, but to all the families who have lost friends and family, my prayers are with you. Anyways,**** I had tickets for the midnight premiere of TDKR and I went. But, turns out, AMC theaters suck and part of the movie choose to skip and never work. Then, in a rush of stupidity, someone pulled the fire alarm. Augh. Big mess. I saw the movie today. Bla- Bla- Blaaaaahhh. Amazing. So. EXPECT SPOILERS. Thank you to all of you who followed and reviewed!**

* * *

**IX.**

_The beginning of the end can be narrowed down to one moment. A moment, of desperation._

_... Tap, tap, tap._

_Footsteps against the crisp marble floor. That was all she focused on. Fiona's head hung low, her bangs sweeping across her bloody and sweat matted face. Shame and fear and hate radiated from her being as her arms were shoved and tugged and roughly handled._

_The double doors swung open, and her head swung high._

_She had been told by a man once... Never show your enemy what they want._

_What these monsters wanted was her to cry and wail and beg for her life as they hauled her through the open hall. Her boots dragged behind her, a squeaking of rubber against stone echoing and battling against the shouts and screams of the other mercenaries. Her brothers and sisters in arm. Gotham citizens. Political figures._

_On top of his perch, a man in a rough looking suit gazed down upon her, his eyes shielded by a piece of glass and a pair of rather clunky frames. In her state of weakness she laughed loudly, the hall falling into a lull._

_Fiona knew_ he_ was there, lurking somewhere. She could feel his gaze burn it's way into her spine, as if he was wishing for her to scream out in agony. _

_Across the way, a golden chair sat in the middle of the open space. Fiona blinked, realizing she was to be seated in it, as if it was mocking her, telling her she sat on a throne of lies and betrayal. The Queen of Backstabbery. A Liar among kings. It had meaning, and though to the other bodies in the room it was simply a place where a person was to be seated, Fiona saw it as much more._

_Poetic justice._

_Bane was a stickler for it._

_The tattoo of the bat she had earned on her first day. Batman's symbol. Gotham's symbol. Batman was Gotham's real reckoning, a man who put himself in front of the bullet for the people. A symbol Bane was destined to destroy._

_She cringed. She could feel his gaze again as she was shozed roughly into the throne. Her head swiveled, catching the eyes of comrades and neighbors, their boos and curses flying at her. Fiona thickly swallowed only before opening her mouth and taking a large breath, just as a hammer was banged loudly._

"_Order, order!" a voice echoed from the pile of burnt furniture, boxes, bodies and coffins. He adjusted his glasses before clearly his throat, "This young woman, Fiona Woods, was caught dealing a bit of informatiooon to the enemy. A GPD officer. Is this correct, Ms. Woods?"_

_Jonathan Crane's question rattled her mind and she found her gaze glued to the floor._

"_Ms. Wooooods? Hello? Anybody home?"_

_Fiona said nothing, her hands clasped and posture hunched._

"_I'm just going to assume, _yes," clapped Crane, "_Now, Ms. Woods. Exile, or death?"_

_A voice from the back of the room spoke. One that made her heart pound and her blood boil. _

"_Death."_

* * *

**3 Months Prior:**_  
_

Bane was proud of his work. The burly man examined his hands in a methodical manner, cracking each knuckle carefully and with precision. Sometimes he wished he was different. Sometimes he wished he had soft and gentle hands, instead of calloused and angered. Bane pushed the thoughts to the back of his mind and placed his head in his hand, leaning it up against the table as his other drummed loudly on the mahogany.

He didn't move his head, but instead glanced about at the few persons littered about the large room. The chandelier twinkled above, light danced across the table. Bane tried to catch a ray with his fingers, only for it to slip through and skitter away.

John Daggett's home was a large one. The corrupt businessman was on his own rise to power, and though Bane had no care for it, he knew he had to play along with the games now. Bane had to gain trust, and when Daggett made it high enough, he could cut the middleman out. Though, Bane had to admit, the penthouse was much nicer than the sewers. All of his men agreed. The women though, they were the ones who found themselves having a bit too much fun.

Trish, Yuppie's rather... _eccentric _wife had a taking to the girls, who, Bane really didn't believe he should be calling girls. They were women, strong and fierce and very capable to handle their own. Meghan, the blonde who had a tendency to lay low was the quiet one and just as she leads on, she's one for a bit of stealth, while Brooky, the one female Bane really could live without, was loud and trash talking. Rebecca was a wild card, always one to keep a level head, though the ex-cop was not to be taken for a weak woman. Bane had seen her tear apart fellow humans, and it excited him, so much that he wished to see it again soon.

But then there was _Fiona._

He could feel his blood pressure rise and his muscles tense. Not in the good way, either. Bane had met women who could do that, exciting pleasures beyond his wildest dreams. Fiona, however, was not exciting anything out of him and if she was, it was hatred. Bane's fingers curled against the wooden table, his brows knitting furiously together.

She was sly and quick and boastful and had terrible aim. Bane scowled even harder, his eyes tearing into her hunched form as she lazed against on of the pillars, a book in her hands. The man straightened his shoulders. He wanted to hit her again. The time he did, it felt wonderful. Putting her back in place was something that had to be done more often. His fingers curled into a ball and he rapped his knuckles on the rich brown surface.

Discipline.

A thing she clearly lacked.

Bane swallowed. He would fix it. He always fixed things like this. His men either fixed themselves or died, and Bane knew this woman wasn't going to go down without a fight. It was something about her. The way her eyes burned with fury when he stepped into the room.

To know she had the same feeling of hatred was stimulating. To know she held feelings for him was exhilarating.

...Perhaps he was getting too excited. Shifting in the leather chair, Bane kicked the legs of the table lightly, distracting his mind from Fiona's reign.

Within seconds, the things Bane had been waiting so long for burst through the doors, long and weary looks on their faces. Daggett and his ever-so loyal friend Stryver stood shoulder to shoulder, their eyes glued upon his hulking figure at the end of the table.

"Yes?" his voice rose above the silence in the room. Bane saw Fiona's eyes pull away from her book and flick to the men. In the corner of the room, he heard Yuppie, one of his most trusted men, clear his throat.

Daggett's nose flared, his tongue lashing out to wet his lips. Gripping two small yellow envelopes, the man slapped them on the table.

"We have Wayne's prints. You hit the stock exchange tomorrow."

Bane stood, pleased.

"We'll be ready."


	10. The Man with The Power

**A/N: A quick thank you to all of you who have reviewed and followed. In a few minutes, I'll be uploading a music playlist for a blog for this story. I put character profiles up and music will be up soon. So, yeah. Go to town with it. :D Anyways, hope you like this chapter.**

**Contains Spoilers for The Dark Knight Rises**

* * *

**X.**

_A man who understands the people will always have power._

Fiona took a stutter step forward, her eyes scanning over the three motorbikes resting in front of her. As far as transportation went, the bikes were ideal when it came to police chases, something Fio was sure was going to happen. After all, they were messing with Gotham City's stock exchange.

Biting her lip, she swallowed heavily and coughed, motioning to the black bike.

"Greg?"

"What, Fiona," his voice was laced with annoyance as his eyes met her face. He groaned loudly, "Don't tell me you don't know how to drive one of these..."

Fiona gave a sheepish grin, "Teach me?"

"I hope you crash."

Greg shifted over to his vehicle, throwing his leg over and clutching his messenger bag to his shoulder. Inside was a device rigged with codes and fingerprints, all tracing back to the one and only Bruce Wayne. Fiona only shrugged at Greg's response, shifting on her feet and playing with her helmet's visor.

"C'mon. It can't be that hard. It's a pimped out version bicycle," Fiona spat, swinging her leg over and positioning her bottom comfortably on the seat.

"Yeah. Except for the fact it's motorized, it's top speed is 120, and you don't even know where the god damn throttle is."

"And no pedals, you forgot that," Fiona sat up and poked the frame of the bike. "Ah. Right, well, fuck."

Greg only laughed this time, his eyes breaking from Fiona to see the other bodies making their way into the garage of John Daggett's penthouse. Stryver, the creepy looking guy with the comb over, tightened his jaw when he saw Fiona eyeing the bike widely. Behind him, Bane towered over the rest of them, his broad shoulders and red helmet shining under the iridescent lights.

Fiona's body went rigid. She hadn't realized Bane was joining them. Self-consciously flipping the helmet's visor down, Fiona leaned back, her eyes watching the man intently.

He didn't even have to show his face for Fiona to know it was him. It was the large forearms and threatening stance combined with the graceful movements he held. Scowling behind her helmet, she felt her fingers curled tightly around the bikes handles.

Her jaw still hurt.

She wanted to make his hurt the same.

And even though she knew it was very impossible to do so, Fiona still longed to do it. To hit him. To let him know she wasn't to be controlled over. Out of all of the men and women by his side, she knew she was the least respected. She was the odd one out. While others sometimes got praise, she more often than not got insults. He was hating on her, and she was doing the same.

Fiona hated she couldn't _do_ anything to him. He would crush her and puree her remains in a blender before drinking them as a protein shake if she even touched him.

… How did he eat?

Narrowing her eyes at the contraption on his mouth, Fiona wondered if he had a disfigured face. Rumors spread through the ranks saying he was a morphine addict and that explained why he couldn't feel pain. Other said he had a burned face and covered it from all eyes. Others said it was something that held his skin together.

Fiona disregarded her thoughts quickly when she wondered if he was _attractive_. But then again, maybe he was. A strong jawline? A sharp nose? Maybe facial hair? Fiona blinked furiously as Bane's voice echoed through the hangar. Now wasn't the time for fantasies about _the man she hated._

"The deed will be done, gentleman, you have my _word_," the gusto in Bane's voice seemed to translate into his hand motions as he waved them off precariously, "If anyone makes a mistake... _Ms. Woods_... You have my word they will be dealt with as well."

Fiona let a loud sigh escape her mouth, earning a look from Daggett. "Watch it, girl. Don't think you're the-"

"Listen, I don't care, Mr. Daggett. I'm sorry. But, we're on a _schedule. _Can we get this over with?" Fiona didn't mean to sound sour, so to appease the approaching Bane, "I don't plan on screwing this up."

Heads bobbed, pleased with the answer.

Bane quickly mounted the vehicle, coiling his hands around the throttle before his helmet turned in her direction. He seemed to look her over once more before returning his attention to the opening garage door.

The plan was in action.

* * *

Bane's eye twitched behind his helmet's visor.

The awkward revving from Fiona's bike made him want to punch something. Glancing back as they pulled to a red light, he saw her bike jerk back and forth as she attempted to maneuver the machine. He almost laughed as she sped forward quickly, only to stop just as abruptly.

Shaking his head, he turned his attention back to the road.

For a split second, he hoped she would crash, just to see what would happen, but then he remembered the job and realized he actually _needed _ her.

Need. He scoffed. He didn't need her. No one needed her.

The light turned green and the bikes sped off, Fiona a bit behind. Bane ignored her, turning right onto Main Street. He gave a nod to Greg, the man nicknamed Jumpy, and watched him pull into the parking lot, Fiona following.

The plan was for them to enter the building, Greg dressed as an accountant and Fiona dressed as a janitor, and resume work as if they were employees going in for the late evening shift. 15 minutes later, Bane would enter, take out security, and the plan would begin.

As Fiona sped by, Bane watched with curiosity, as her helmet snapped in his direction. He waved her off, snorting as her bike almost connected with the gate at the parking garage. She was truly an idiot, and Bane regretted even letting her join his team. Fiona had spirit, though and Bane figured that with time, he would break her in and perhaps she would actually becoming useful.

He strongly doubted it.

* * *

Bullets bounced off of monitors and screams filled the air. In a rush of speed, the woman reached into the janitor's bucket and pulled out the automatic handgun, loading it and rushing down the stairs of the stock exchange quickly. Kicking open the front doors, Fiona grinned at Greg who was already in the room with his weapon drawn. He nodded at her once, his voice rising above the crowd.

"Down. Everybody get down!"

Some complied, while others cowered. Fiona let out another burst of bullets, letting it spread through the air and lodge into more monitors. A woman by her began pleading and Fiona shot her a look.

There were footsteps as more screams came from the front doors. Heavy, slow footsteps. Fiona knew it was Bane even before he pushed by her roughly, spinning a man in his chair.

"There's no money you can steal... This is a stock exchange!"

Bane was silent for a moment, "Then why are all of _you_ here?"

The man's face roughly met the table he was sitting it with a satisfying _whack_.

Fiona grinned as Greg rushed over, grabbing a tablet and plugging in the device, tapping away furiously. Straightening her shoulders, she watched Bane twiddle his hands as police sirens wailed outside. He was calm, so, Fiona figured she should be as well. After all, Daggett had put good word in for them, so there were more people helping in the exchange than she thought. Her head reeled as she spotted the bikes, resting against a pillar of computers.

"How much longer, Jumpy, my friend?"

Greg eyed the tablet. "8 minutes."

Bane nodded. "Time to go _mobile._"

Bane gripped the man in the chair, hoisting him up and ignoring his protests. Quickly duct taping his hands with the tape provided by Greg, He hauled him onto the back of the Fiona's motorcycle, only before grabbing a terrified woman and doing the same. Greg watched as Bane grasped the tablet and pushed it into the bag, handing it to Fiona.

"Show me you won't met up, Skinny."

Fiona twitched.

Slinging the bag over her shoulder, she nodded quickly, before hopping onto the bike like her partners. The group of men and women were directed to the front of the building, where slowly they trickled out, police training their guns on them. The bikes were silent, and as Fiona's heart pounded, she elbowed the man on the back of the bike, hoping he would shut up.

He didn't.

Screams erupted as Bane sped through the crowd, ignoring the bodies and taking off through the police cruisers, his fellow robbers in tow.

Cursing loudly, Fiona spotted the police barricade ahead and paled as Bane and Greg quickly jumped off of it, landing and continuing on their bikes. Fiona sped up, her hands clutching the throttle. A scream rose from her throat as her eyes clamped shut and she felt the ground disappear beneath the bikes tires.

Her eyes flew open when the bike made contact with the ground. She laughed, swallowing her fear and speeding up, weaving through cars and proud of herself for making the jump. Balancing the bike, Fiona leaned into a turn, following Bane as he quickly dumped his hostage. Greg, however, kept his on the back of his bike, letting the man in the suit scream and plead.

The sun was setting now, and as Fiona tugged on the throttle, her bike dove beneath the road, trailing Bane and Greg as they weaved through traffic in the tunnels. Police sirens screeched behind them, their tires beating the pavement in a desperate attempt to catch up to the bikes. Weaving around a van quickly, Fiona swallowed, the lights in the tunnel suddenly growing dim.

"_What the..._?" the man on the back of her bike screamed as a dark shadow rushed by, accompanied by the wail of an engine.

_Impossible._

Fiona jerked her bike left, avoiding a stopped car. The tunnel was dark now, all of the lights and cars stopped. Fiona quickly sped up, paling as Greg's bike slowed to a stop and his hostage ran from the man, screaming. Watching as the police quickly tackled him, Fiona was now fueled by a new fear.

A fear of the Batman.

Her bike raced to the speed of Bane's, mirroring his weaving patterns. As the road galloped below them, Fiona saw an intersection and swallowed, breaking right while Bane quickly skidded, his bike turning the completely opposite direction. He was headed straight towards the police cruisers, and as he rolled by, they didn't even _stop._

The police were chasing the Bat now.

Fiona heard her bike behind her and quickly sped forward, ducking below a bridge to avoid him.

There was a cry, and suddenly the weight of her hostage was gone.

Fiona looked back, confused.

With a loud crash, she felt her bike connect with something, sending her toppling over the handlebars and onto the ground. She screamed in pain, her pants tearing and exposing road burned skin. Her eyes made connection with two boots.

Two _black boots._

He roughly grabbed her bag, eyeing the tablet as it beeped successfully, the false information planted onto the server.

She grinned.

Suddenly, the bat's fist collided with her helmet, shattering the glass and knocking her into darkness.


	11. Ouch

**A/N: So, as far as I know, I had the second Bane/OC story up on this site. The first I recommend to everyone. Huge and Mighty Forms is an extremely wonderful story. But, anyways, I'm glad everyone is jumping on the Bane bandwagon. As far as the music playlist goes, I have it set up, and if you all want the blog link, I'll put it up on my profile. Anyways, enjoy this chapter. **

**This chapters contains violence.**

* * *

**XI.**

_Ouch. I have lost myself again._

Fiona was hauled off the bike and thrown to the cement floor of the garage. Above her, Bane towered, his dark eyes seething and his breathing heavy. He cracked his knuckles and Fiona gaped like a fish out of water. Bane's foot collided with her stomach, sending her reeling in a dark, hollow pain. She could feel the air rush out of her lungs as another kicked was aimed at her back.

Fiona rolled away from Bane, gasping for air.

The woman struggled to make it to her feet, the room spinning dangerously. Losing the balance that wasn't really even there, Fio fell to the cement, her wrists bracing her as her bloody knees stung.

She hissed in pain, but quickly grunted as Bane's boot made connection with her ribs. Fiona collapsed again, swallowing and rolling in pain.

She wasn't going to die.

She wasn't going to beg.

"Get up."

Fiona stumbled onto her hands and knees. Coughing violently, the young woman quickly swallowed again, fighting the bile that was rising in her throat. She moaned in pain, grasping onto the wall for support. The slick cement didn't help much as she soon found Bane's hands pulling her to her feet. Fiona quickly braced herself, her eyes frantic with fear.

She wasn't going to die.

She wasn't going to beg.

Bane's fist connected with her stomach, sending her doubling over, garbled screams of pain were murdered in her throat as he quickly kneed her in the face. She cursed, her fingers prying at his strong ones, desperately wishing he would release her hair.

She screamed again, making eye contact with Trish, who was standing in the doorway of the garage, watching in fear. Trish's hands quickly clamped over her mouth as Bane turned around, following Fiona's gaze.

"Leave us. Take the others to patrol the streets. We have unfinished business," Bane spat, shoving Fiona towards the doorway, "Our wonderful girl here went and did exactly what she said she wouldn't. She blew it."

"I... I d-didn..."

Bane shoved her roughly through the doorway, his hands grasping her throat as she was pinned against the wall. Fiona's face grew red as she gasped feverishly. She could feel the tears pricking her eyes now.

She wasn't going to die.

She wasn't going to beg.

"Bane..."

"You too, Daggett. Leave."

Footsteps resided. Fiona's throat was released. She fell to her knees, air rushing into her shocked and faltering system. Bane only laughed.

"Pathetic."

Fiona screamed as she was thrown up the steps into the living room. Fear swelled in her chest as Bane's footfalls came closer and closer.

"Weak."

Bane's hands grasped her shirt, lifting her up and shoving her hard down on the glass coffee table, which in turn shattered beneath the small woman. Fiona wailed in pain, the glass digging into her flesh and tearing the skin.

"Insignificant."

Fiona cried out as Bane's fist collided with her abdomen, her back digging into the glass even more. Clawing at the material on her shirt, Bane swiftly hauled her onto the carpet, watching as she frantically struggled to stand.

She blocked him out, a strong ringing taking the place of every other noise in the room. She gasped for breath and hissed as Bane stomped on her back, the glass burying deeping and cracking.

Fiona screamed louder than she ever had in her life.

The pain was hot and white and she thought she was going to pass out.

"Up."

She clawed at the carpet in pain, screaming at every movement.

"Get. Up."

"No," she wailed, her hands shaking madly as she clawed at the air. "L-Leave."

Bane's head tilted, "And on what ground do you think you have the rights to command me?"

Bane's hands were careful now, hauling Fiona up, gripping her waist. Her eyes shut tightly, more screams flying from her throat as hot tears spilled down her face. Fiona struggled to breath, her lungs falling into convulsive spasms.

Her eyes widened as Bane kicked the balcony door open, displaying the view of Gotham and the long pool which rested high above the city. Fiona screamed again, kicking furiously.

"Please..."

"Please, what?"

"D-Don't..."

"Don't, what?"

Fiona could hear the smile in his voice.

"I c-can't swi-"

His foot tripped hers as he shoved her shoulders forward, sending her toppling into the water. Water rushed into her lungs. Panic rose in her chest.

She was going to die.

She was going to beg.

* * *

Bane rested on his haunches, his fingers dipping in the water, testing the temperature. The water mirrored his reflection as he watched Fiona pull herself onto the stairs of the pool's shallow end. He laughed, watched her writhe as the muscles in her back worked to pull her up.

He knew she had been broken.

If she hadn't been broken, Bane realized, he was toying with a woman stronger than most. Surveying the bloody water stagnantly seeping around her, Bane stood full height, watching her with each step her took. His fingers found the material of his shirt, playing with the fabric on the sleeve. He stepped down one of the steps, his boots sloshing in the water. Quickly pushing the black sleeves up on his forearms, Bane grasped Fiona's arms and pulled, heaving her out of the water.

She coughed and moaned, her fingers digging into the pavement.

"C'mon, Fiona. Let's get you up," Bane muttered, his lips curling into a snarl as he clutched soaked waist, pulling her onto two feet. He kept his hands on her, examining her back as she stumbled blindly to the penthouse. She fell against the glass door, crying out.

For a moment, he regretted what he did, but it was only because he knew he was going to have to fix her. He had no intent of helping her, but as his eyes scanned across the damage, he realized he was _going to have to._

Bane wasn't comfortable with removing her clothing, but she was wet and shaking so he only saw it as a way to possible calm her down.

Leading her to the sofa, she sat down quietly, her eyes staring off into the distance as he gently tugged at her shirt. She didn't protest, but simply hissed in pain. The black shirt was carelessly tossed to the side, disposed in the corner.

"Stand."

Fiona simply looked at him, fear and shame written across her face.

"I am _helping you_."

"Just kill me."

Bane shook his head, standing in front of her on the couch and tugging her boots off. He quickly tossed them aside like the shirt before tugging her to her feet and turning his attention to her cargo pants. His large finger fumbled with the button and zipper.

"Why would I kill what I _fixed_?"

He growled slightly as the button slid back through the hole, proving too small for his hands. Bane sighed, trying again to undo her pants. His brows furrowed and he blinked as something wet hit his hand. Looking up, he caught Fiona wiping away tears quickly.

He almost grinned.

He _had _broken her.

Fiona lowered her head again, moving his hands away as she undid the button and zipper, discarding the pants quickly. Bane simply looked her over, inspecting the large lacerations on her knees and trying to avoid her lace undergarments.

Bane had seen women naked before. Of course he had. He was a_ man_. He was no virgin, and though he had not seen a woman in her natural state in a while, Bane still had self control, and as Fiona's eyes widened, he gave her a look.

"I'm not going to rape you, Fiona. That would be in very bad taste. Not something a gentleman would be."

He shifted, his fingers coiling around her wrist as he pulled her through the kitchen and through the study, motioning to the toilet. Closing the lid, he nodded.

"Sit down."

Fiona did as she was told and waited as Bane disappeared through the doors. She heard a bit of a commotion and when he returned with a first aid kit. he went to work right away, cleaning and stitching and bandaging. His hands weren't meant for this kind of work, Fiona knew. His hands were built for destruction and killing, not comforting and healing.

But, Fiona didn't protest as his calloused hands flew across her back, pulling the shards from her skin and stopping the bleeding from the deep holes. He _was_ helping her. But he was the one who did this.

Half an hour passed in silence.

Fiona growled as he stood, surveying his work. She still hated him, even if he was saving her life.

She wasn't _broken._

She was angry.


	12. I Need To Breath

**XII.**

_I don't want to hurt you but I need to breath._

The dream was intoxicating.

Bane's head reeled, his chest heaving and breath faltering in his exhaustion induced sleep. The hulking form of the man tossed to his right, his arms burying themselves beneath the covers in search of warmth and comfort.

He certainly wasn't finding any in the dream.

A good night's sleep wasn't something Bane got often, and when he found his eyes drooping slightly earlier that evening, he thought sleep was a good option. Earlier, he had stumbled out of the study and down the hall to his room before locking the door behind him. Falling tiredly into the bed before kicking his boots off, Bane's eyes flicked to the television, watching the news reels from the night. Bane growled as he saw Fiona's body flip over the bike. He grasped the remote, pressing the off button and reclining backwards. His eyes stung with tiredness, and within moments, he found himself fast asleep.

His mind was a battlefield when he slept, plagued with nightmares and pain, but other times full of peace and success. Tonight was something entirely. He didn't remember how he got to where he was, and he didn't even know _where _he was. Bane didn't care. He cared about the woman in front of him. Skinny, dark eyed, and silent.

_Fiona._

He could see her, standing in front of him on the couch, her lips pulled into a taunting smile. She wasn't bruised, or bloody, but smiling, donned in a blue dress that came to her knees and was covered in sporadic polka dots. Bane only watched as she knelt close, her fingers curling around the edge of his mask.

He wanted to protest, to slap her hand away in fear of the coming onslaught of pain. But he couldn't move. He couldn't stop her. So Fiona removed his mask. He waited for the crippling pain to tear at his limbs and insides. He waited and waited, writhing under her grasp.

The pain never came.

Fiona's laughter echoed through the thick air of the unknown home as she touched his face and smiled at him. His eyes flicked across her face, every single one of his limbs heavy with a weight he couldn't overcome. Bane's hands twitched, his fingers curling together.

Bane blinked.

He was no longer on a couch, but instead, a bedroom with open ceiling, walls climbing upwards into the sky. Bane cringed when he realized why the walls looked so familiar. They were stone from his past, leading upward to freedom. He gaze flicked downwards where he spotted Fiona, clad in the undergarments he had seen her in, a simple black bra and simple black bottoms.

In her right hand she clutched the stem of an unknown wine bottle while her other hands gripped a match, the fire burning continuously as the matchstick refused to burn. Her eyes were hollow, filled with nothing. Bane swallowed and called out to her, and when he blinked, she was gone.

Now there was fire. The curtains and the bedposts were lit aflame, the dangerous heat licking at his fingertips as he reached out to it, wishing for the dream to end. He felt hands on his back, small fingers dancing across the skin and teasing his senses. He didn't move, but kept a hold onto the hand that slipped into his...

"Bane," a voice rattled him from his sleep, "Wake up."

He stirred, clearing his head of the images. Within seconds, he had completely forgotten what he had even been experiencing moments before.

Daggett was towering over him on the bed, looking down at the mercenary with cold eyes.

"It worked."

Bane was silent.

"Wayne's piss broke and soon, I'll be running Wayne Enterprises."

Bane's eyes tore away to the alarm clock on the nightstand.

_12:36 am_, read the angry red numbers.

Bane nodded, realizing he must not have been sleeping for very long. He sat up, rolling his shoulders and nodding to Daggett who crossed the room and peered into the cabinet above the desk. Pulling out a bottom of amber alcohol, he poured himself a glass, offering some to Bane. The larger man shook his head.

"Not at this hour, I'm afraid."

"You know you beat that girl up for nothing?" Daggett questioned, swirling his glass, "Poor thing. Is she dead?"

"No, Fiona is strong. She is resting," Bane crossed his arms, "Perhaps I should _apologize _for my actions. We didn't want any problems, so I sought out to fix the one I thought there was."

"The only problem we had was the Batman. Out of all of the nights he choose to come back..."

Bane snorted. "He will be dealt with soon enough."

"The sooner the better, Bane. I didn't hire you to sit around and wait for him to come to you. Do something about him."

And with that Daggett left.

Oh how Bane loathed that pompous fucker. He kept his mouth shut, letting Daggett do what he pleased and say what he wanted. Soon, he figured, he could kill the man and move on. But for now, he fell in line behind his orders.

But before he tackled the Batman, he would tackle Fiona.

* * *

**A/N: This one is short. I apologize. There will most likely be more tonight. Stay tuned.**


	13. Ran My Mouth Off

**A/N: I'm feeling pretty comedic today, and though that may be due to the fact that I can't feel my face (thanks to my dentist and a fixed filling), the following chapter may or may not be humorous. I've been told I have an odd sense of humor. (_i.e, punching babies and burning orphanages_.) Anyway, thank you to every single one of you who have reviewed and followed and faved. Honestly, I didn't think this story would get this much attention when I started. **

**Without further adieu, I present the chapter. I've got Mac n' Cheese to eat, bro.**

* * *

**XIII.**

_I ran my mouth off a bit too much, what did I say? _

"Trish?"

"Yeah, Skinny?"

"How in the name of God do I turn this fucking shower on?"

There was silence as Fiona stood in the bathroom of the guest room of the penthouse, her eyes darting across the shower handle which resembled a mangled piece of metal. Daggett had explained earlier, it was a piece of art like _everything else_ in the damn house. Fiona only rolled her eyes and waved him off, eager to clean her wounds and spend some time under the warm water.

Problem was that Fiona had never even seen a shower this _big,_ let alone fancy. Knobs and jets and shower heads pointed out from the walls in various spots and Fio's confusion on rose with each new discovery. Thankfully, Aunty Trish had been around since Bane's bonding session with Fiona earlier that night, taking care of the things he neglected to clean. The blonde was seated on the edge of the guest bed, her eyes rolling to the ceiling.

"Have ya never showered before, Skins?"

"Why are there seven handles, and why are all seven handles retarded pieces of steel? I mean, how the fuck do I..." Fiona was cut off as Trish made her way into the bathroom and gingerly grasped the largest knob, turning it clockwise, "Oh."

Demonstrating the act which produced the water once more, Trish motioned for her to take her time and left, closing the door gently. Once the door shut, Fiona quickly dropped the cotton towel from her body and sighed, wincing at the bruises winding down her stomach. She grumbled and turned her head, eyeing her back in the large mirror above the sink. The cuts were deep and jagged, each scabbed and menacing. She shifted on her feet, twisting her back and hissing as one of the scabs tore unexpectedly. Fiona's breath caught in her throat as she swallowed away the pain quickly, blinking furiously.

Her dark brown eyes were surrounded by swollen lids, each side purple with bruises. Fiona scowled deeply at her sore jaw, bruised nose, and black eyes. At least make-up could cover some of it, she reasoned before flicking her orange bangs over the top of her head and sighing. Fiona's hair had always been short. The hair was much like a man's haircut when she first got it, but over time she let her bangs grow out and dyed the hair, turning the brown to a light orange.

She liked her hair. It was one thing she was proud of.

Dismissing the mirror, Fiona stepped into the spacious shower stall and under the warm water. For a moment, it stung. Her knees wriggled and shook away water as the liquid attacked the open wounds there. She faced the shower head, letting it hit her hair and dampen the mousy strands there. Letting out a moan of relief, the frail woman opened her eyes, searching for the soap.

Her eyes widened.

Had she left it on the sink?

Stepping out of the shower, Fiona was greeted by a rush of cold air causing her skin erupt into goosebumps. She hissed, peering around the bathroom for the lone bar of soap. She cursed loudly, hoping the door to her bedroom was closed.

Was Trish still out there? Would it be awkward if she stumbled out looking for the soap?

Shaking her head, Fiona figured everyone forgot something every now and then. Pulling her towel across her chest and not bothering to tie it around her body, Fiona quickly unlocked the bathroom door and stepped onto the carpeted floor.

"Sorry, Trish. I forgot the..."

Fiona peered around.

"Trish?"

The coast was clear.

Quickly rummaging through the nightstand to her right, Fiona searched quickly for the soap, groaning as her bangs flopped about, leaving drips of water on the carpet and nightstand. Growling, she quickly slammed the small drawer shut before circling the bed to the other side, checking the one. Nothing.

Fiona grumbled angrily.

Maybe Trish had taken the soap with her by accident?

Her room _was _across the hall...

But what if someone saw her? No. No one would. No one ever came to this part of the house unless they were looking for someone.

Pulling her towel close, Fiona made her way to the door, yanking it open and paling at the broad chest she made eye contact with. Her dark eyes followed the muscular outlines beneath the black shirt upward, confirming that her fear was true. Someone was looking for her.

Bane was looking for her.

"Am I... interrupting?"

Fiona didn't make eye contact, lowering her eyes to the ground as she pulled her towel closer. "Do you have any soap with you?"

"...Soap?" Bane's voice sounded a bit put off, and as he crossed his arms, she imagined his brows must have shot up like they normally did when he asked a question.

"I was taking a shower and I lost my bar of soap," Fiona muttered, "I was going to ask Trish-"

"It's on your desk," Bane nodded, "Next to your clothes."

Fiona only tilted her head letting her bangs flop to the corner of her face, her dark eyes scanning his masked face. She felt her fists coil even tighter around the towel. She honestly wanted to pummel his face into the doorframe, right here, right now. Maybe stomp in into the carpet a few times.

Pure hatred. That's what it felt like. A hot feeling that made every inch of her skin crawl.

Whenever Bane corrected her, or reminded her, or made her feel stupid, that feeling would happen. Each and every time. She didn't care if he had beaten her like a piece of meat 6 hours ago. She didn't care.

Flicking her eyes upward, she gave him a sarcastic smile.

"Thanks, boss."

Bane's laughter echoed down the hall. He pushed his way past her, entering the guest bedroom and collapsing on the edge of the bed. His hands fiddled together, the large dangerous weapons taunting her with each crack of his knuckle. Swallowing, Fiona waltzed over to the desk and grabbed her soap and clothes before returning to bathroom, slamming the door shut behind her.

God.

She hated that man.

* * *

God.

He hated that woman.

Though her personality had become a bit more obedient and calm in the past 6 hours, Bane could still see the unadulterated rage in her eyes when he spoke down to her. It was entertaining, and Bane wondered how far he could push her until she tried to drive his head into the floor.

He was briefly reminded of a teenage Talia, fighting her way through puberty and boy troubles. Quite literally.

Bane laughed slightly, standing to his feet once he heard the bathroom door slam shut. Though it was odd seeing her in such a... bare state, he quickly reminded himself of the self control he possessed before striding across the room and examining her desk.

No papers, just a small journal, a book called _Wuthering Heights_, and a ink pen. Bane shrugged, flipping through the blank pages of the journal which were occasionally plagued by a small drawing a cat or a human face. The book however was marked up beyond belief, with small notes in the margins and circled words. Bane furrowed his brow when he came across a certain passage that was underlined and circled.

"_Ah, I thought, there will be no saving him: he's doomed, and flies to his fate! . . . I saw the quarrel had merely effected a closer intimacy – had broken the outworks of youthful timidity, and enabled them to forsake the disguise of friendship, and confess themselves lovers._"

Bane's nose scrunched beneath his mask as he flopped the book shut. Love and other things, what trash. There was no such thing as _true _love in this world. Many things had shown him this throughout time. Ignoring the tight feeling in his chest, Bane turned his attention to the bathroom door as the shower stopped.

Settling down in the desk chair, Bane's boots flew to the desk, propping themselves up as he grasped the copy _Wuthering Heights._ His eyes scanned the pages, finding no interest in the sappy angst dripping from its pages. He could hear Fiona in the bathroom, shuffling around.

Bane blinked at the loud bang that erupted from behind the closed bathroom door.

He heard Fiona curse.

He laughed.

"Son of a bitch that hurt!"

Bane laughed once more as the door to the bathroom swung open to display Fiona clutching her knee and cursing louder than before.

"F-Fuck!"

"Ah, ah, watch your mouth, Ms. Woods. Not very lady like to drop words like that in earshot of a gentleman."

"Gentleman, my ass."

Bane watched her grip the nightstand, nursing her bloodied knee and wiping the crimson liquid away as it attempted to drizzle down her shin. She rolled her baggy sweater sleeves up and away, gritting her teeth tightly. Her bangs must be cumbersome, he thought, always getting in her eyes like that.

"Did you fall?"

Fiona was quick to shoot him a glare, "No, I didn't fall."

"Well, what did you do?" Bane questioned. He returned his attention back to her book, flicking through the pages tiredly. Fiona's eyes must have caught him with her book because she quickly threw her bloodied towel at him.

"That's _my book!_"

Bane made a face at the towel, picking it up with his index finger and thumb. Fiona wretched it from his hands along with the book.

"I was well aware it was your book. That's why I was reading it," he snorted, his arms crossing, "I never took you as the _romantic_ type."

"_Wuthering Heights _isn't romantic, it's... _dark_."

Bane simply rolled his eyes.

"That's not what they told _me_ in school, dear."

"Don't call me dear," Fiona spat, her eyes flicking across his body, "Why are you even here?"

"I'll call you whatever I do please, _dear,_" he mused, crossing his arms and eyeing her half dressed body, "You are aware that you're not wearing pants, correct?"

Fiona cursed, throwing both the book and the towel at him once more. "I was bleeding!"

"You still are."

She returned from the bathroom with sweatpants this time, instead of a flimsy pair of underwear. The pant legs were rolled up above her knees, sporting the road burn which she had been given hours ago. The woman settled down on the edge of the bed, pulling cotton bandages from the nightstand.

"You never answered my question."

"Ah, yes. Fiona, _dear,_ may I simply state that you ask too many."

She growled. "Why are you here?"

"To apologize, plain and simple."

"For what?" She asked, her eyes too busy with her bandages to meet his expectant gaze. he dismissed her lack of focus and stood, his arms flying out like he was waiting for an embrace.

"For beating beating the daylights out of you earlier, of course!" Bane chuckled, his enthusiasm making Fiona cringe, "Have you not seen the news, Fiona?"

She shook her head, worried he was either being overly sarcastic or he was actually pleased. It was difficult to tell with the mercenary before her. He always brought such gusto to his speech, such gusto to his actions. One could easily become weary had they not known him for long enough. Bane always prided himself in making others uncomfortable. Fear was a worthy adversary of his, helping him through many things.

"You didn't blow it, Fiona. I was as surprised as you were," he mumbled, "It seems you weren't lying to me after all!"

Fiona blinked once, twice, and then a third time.

Bane's eyes crinkled from the grin that was plastered on his face beneath his mask.

There were so many things rushing through her mind. Bane could tell. Anger, though, seemed to radiate off of her being. He expected her to lunge at him, screaming and cursing in the manner that she did, her hair flying wildly.

But she didn't.

She simply returned to her knees, wrapping the bandages around slower than before. Her lips pursed slightly before she paused, her head shaking.

"You know..." she said, looking up at him, disbelief written across her face, "You're really _something_, Boss. Honestly."

She was on her feet now, circling the bed, "Beat me shitless, bandage me up, then waltz into my room and apologize for all of it in the _first place_?"

Her voice cracked and her finger jabbed his chest as she pointed fearlessly at him, "Honestly, Bane. _Fuck _you. You can go and waltz off with Miranda, laughing and joking and beating the shit out of _other _people. Because I'm not scared of you! I'm actually extremely annoyed with you. I could care less. I'm going to die _anyways_, so I might as well tell _you _off now."

Bane eyed her for a moment, slapping her hand away from him.

"I didn't know you had the bravery to actually tell me that," he voice faltered, "I'm impressed."

Fiona straightened her back, narrowing her eyes.

"Get out."

Bane simply snatched her book from the bed, returning to his seat in the desk chair. "When I'm done reading."

Fiona growled, sauntering over and quickly snatching it for the _second time._

"Listen, _dear._ I follow what orders _I_ want. Pull yourself off of your mighty throne and get used to it," he hissed, standing and towering over her, "Now give the book back."

"Make me."

Bane's eyes narrowed, "Are you looking to meet Death today, girl?"

His hands reached to snatch the book, but Fiona was much faster. It was behind her now. He growled, his hands finding her stomach and lifting her into his arms.

"Give me the book."

"I didn't know you were the... ow... r-romantic type, Bane."

He shoved her roughly onto the bed. "I _will _kill you."

Fiona gave her best shit-eating grin, ignoring the tearing pain in her back as more wounds reopened. "No you won't, you like me too much."

"I wouldn't exactly use the word 'like'."

Fiona only snorted, watching as he tossed her onto the bed and grabbing the book. He made his way to the door.

"I may not give this back. It _is_ one of my favourites," Bane muttered, "_Very _romantic."

"Oh, fuck you."

"Not today, dear. Maybe next time."

And with that, he shut the door and left.

* * *

**A/N: Oh, I forgot! At the end of each chapter, I'll be adding a chapter question... May or may not relate to the story, but hey. Whatever.**

** So, What's your favourite book?**


	14. Friends and Problems

**A/N: So, it was mentioned by one of my lovely reviewers that Tom Hardy was in Wuthering Heights, and they had inquired as to whether or not I picked that book because of it. I actually completely forgot about Hardy in the movie version, so hey. It works. xD**

**I loved all of the books you mentioned in last chapter's question! The Outsiders, personally, is my favorite. Harry Potter and the Book Thief are up there too. Thanks to all of you who reviewed and followed! Anyways, here's the chapter, I hope you like it!  
**

* * *

**XIV.**

_Man, oh man, you're my best friend. I scream it to the nothingness, there ain't nothing that I need._

The heavy feelings of guilt and warning signs of Fiona's least favorite time of month were weighing her down.

More so the_ guilt_ than the knowledge of the incoming week of hell for the young woman. It had been a month since Fiona joined Bane's army, and in that time, the woman had become a hardened mercenary, fighting to survive and fighting to take Gotham. She didn't mind abandoning her attitudes she had before she became one of Bane's. Bane, though, hadn't kept his promises when it came to pay or visiting family.

He completely dismissed her when she brought it up in conversation, and Fiona figured it had something to do with the fact he either was bluffing about that, or didn't have time to listen to her. Most likely it was a combination of the two, seeing that for the past week Bane had been out of sight, dwelling in Daggett's office or out on the streets monitoring the construction and recruitment of his army.

It had been _four weeks_ since Fio saw Mag.

Fiona was worried. Mag hadn't even tried to contact her, and knowing the woman, she was probably worried out of her skin about her. That or she was dead. Fiona didn't even want to consider that possibility.

It was terrifying.

Quickly maneuvering out of bed, Fiona squeaked past Brooky and Meg who had fallen asleep on the carpet in her guest room last night after having a small bonding session with Trish. It was sweet and comforting to know the older woman was there for the girls, especially after the most recent events. The week after the stock exchange became Judgement Week for Bane's men and women. Rebecca Heart had been shot on the streets by a mugger, causing Mike's abandonment of them. Dave, the older mobster, had been shot by Bane after a small disagreement over pay. That left Fiona, Meg, Brooky, Evan and James. It was rough, knowing Bane's inner circle wasn't as strong as it should be.

Another thing that put Fiona on edge was the more frequent presence of Barsad, Bane's second-in-command. He was a handsome man, tall and quiet who often carried out the tasks Bane was too busy for. Though he had a rather suspicious look on his face, Fiona trusted him. Enough to let him stand near her, that was. He creeped her out.

Closing the bathroom door behind her, she flicked the light switch on before leaning against the sink, eyeing her face in the mirror.

The swelling of her black eyes had gone down a lot in the past week, and Fiona was extremely pleased with the normal looking eyelids that covered her brown eyes. Though they were still purple and tinting yellow, Fiona could cover that up with heavy make-up like she normally wore. Nothing a bit of eye shadow couldn't fix.

Wincing, Fiona grunted, the cramping of her lower abdominals beginning to worry her. It was that time again, and Fiona was dreading making the discovering of her period's arrival. Things were finally picking up pace, and Fiona didn't want to be confined to a bed for the next 5 or 6 days. The cramps were crippling.

For such a small woman, such a thing like heavy flow or leaking were never a problem for her, but the cramps brought on by mother nature were crushing. Fiona paled slightly as she sat down on the toilet, her head in her hands.

_Thanks, Mama Nature. Thanks so much._

Fiona wasn't worried until she realized this was Daggett's apartment, and Daggett was unmarried and without any daughters. She began to panic.

Quickly standing and adjusting the boxers she had nabbed from James as sleepwear, she hobbled out of the bathroom, kicking Meg's leg and pushing Brooky's head so she fell to the carpet.

They both groaned, "Go away."

"Guys. Problem. We have one."

Brooky grumbled again, flicking her dark hair out of her eyes and sitting up. "You're pregnant?"

"Woah. Dude. With whose kid?" Meg snorted tiredly, wiping her eyes.

"No. Not pregnant. Mother nature paid me a visit."

There was silence as the two women processed what Fiona said.

"Ah. Shit."

Fiona nodded as the women stood, their eyes flicking up and down Fiona's figure.

"I think I have something in my purse... But only one. And that's _not _going to hold you over for a week," Brooky mustered, the three women quickly rushing down the hall. Meg laughed before covering her mouth as Fiona scooted, her hands yanking her tank top, covering her bottom.

"This is not funny, Meg," Brooky commented, leading the pack, "This is a crisis."

Fiona winced, "I'm going to need Midol or something."

"Cramps?"

"Oh, yeah baby."

"Well, shit."

Quickly scampering through the kitchen area, the women glanced about, making sure it was empty before they scooted across, heading to Brooky's room where her suitcase and purse lay sprawled out in front of her bed.

Brooklyn scrambled and scoured through the clothing and guns, before coming across what she was looking for. Proudly raising it above her head with a proud face, Brooky nodded as Meg cheered.

A tampon.

Fiona nearly screamed with joy.

"Ladies."

Fiona's face fell.

It must have been a sight for Bane, walking into Brooky's room, seeing clothes thrown about in odd manners, underwear and bras and pants and skirts and shirts covering the floor. Most of all, to see Brooklyn hunched in a pile of clothes with a tampon raised above her head.

He must have wanted to turn and run.

"S-Sir," Meg sputtered, turning to face the Goliath, "We're sorry... We had.. uh..."

"A problem," Brooky added standing and placing the tampon in Fiona's hand, "Fio here has got _that thing that makes her bleed from that place._"

Fiona's eyes closed as the woman beside her whispered it behind her hand to their leader.

Bane's eyebrows shot up and he eyed Fiona much like Meg had done.

"Trish will give you money. You may go to the store, if that's what is needed."

Fiona's heart jumped and he nodded at her, "Yeah. That'd be really good. Thank you, sir."

He gave them all a final look before turning on his heel, "Try not to make so much noise when you wake. You almost woke the whole penthouse."

"Sorry, sir. It won't happen again," Meg called out, causing him to continue in silence.

Once he had rounded the corner and gone out of sight, Fiona planted her elbow in Brooky's ribcage.

"_That thing that makes her bleed from that place_? Really?"

* * *

"Selina, come on. I'm worried."

Mag's voice filled the thick kitchen's air as she watched the tall woman peer into the fridge, her nose scrunched at the rotting piece of ham resting on the shelf. Selina rested on her heels, closing the the fridge door and turning to her blonde friend.

"Mag, come on. This is _Fiona,_" Selina Kyle snorted, shaking her head at the woman, "Fiona is fine. Bane's bad, but I'm sure she can hold her own."

Mag sighed, watching as Melon jumped onto the kitchen's island, purring and meowing in Selina direction. The woman frown twisted upwards as she pet the animal, her eyes growing large as he licked her fingers with his sandpaper tongue.

"You really think she's dead, huh?" Selina croaked, her eyes staying glued to the cat.

"I wouldn't have called the favor if I didn't think so."

Selina sighed, watching Mag as she bit her lip and stressfully messaged her head.

"She's a sister to me, Selina."

"I know, I know," she smiled, "I'll see what I can do. Bane is pretty secretive about who works for him and who doesn't. I'll dig up what I can, alright. I was at Daggett's place earlier this month. A few of Bane's guys came after me. She wasn't there. I can tell you that."

Mag nodded, quickly hopping from the kitchen stool and pulling the slender woman into a hug.

"Thank you, Selina. It means a lot."

"Hey, I may be a criminal, but I'm not _all_ bad, okay?"

* * *

"Where are the girls?"

"Hm?"

"Meg, Brooks and Fiona?"

Bane looked up from _Wuthering Heights_ to see Barsad staring at him with curious eyes. Returning his gaze to the book, he sighed before explaining it to his second-in-command.

"Ms. Woods wasn't feeling well. Something about '_bleeding from that place_', as Brooklyn put it."

Barsad laughed. "Sweets really said that?"

"Brooklyn Sweet is rather bold. She did say that."

"Well, when they return, I'll be sure to ask Fiona how she's feeling. I've heard wonderful things about menstruation from Trish."

Bane chuckled, shaking his head, his attention on his book rather than Barsad who had taken his leave. Watching the door shut, Bane sighed, placing the book on his desk beside the blue prints to the Gotham Sewer system.

Suddenly there was a commotion from the entryway to the penthouse.

"Where _the hell_ is Bane?"

* * *

**What kind of music do you think Fiona listens to? And Bane?**


	15. The Pure Kind We All Dream Of

**A/N: I apologize, guys. Between being sick and puppysitting, I hadn't made time to write out this chapter. There is another on the way tonight, or atleast tomorrow morning. There may be some... smut... or fluff... or dark touching... I don't know. But whatever it is, it's in the next chapter. Just fore-warning you guys. **

**As for the music, I agree with all of you. Bane is a very classical guy. I imagine he would like Opera... Maybe "Non, je ne regrette rien" by Edith Piaf. Any Inception fans will know that one... as for Fiona, alternative or rap, something like "Homewrecker" by Marina & the Diamonds (which are where this chapter lyrics are from!).**

**Anyway! Hope you like the chapter! **

* * *

**XV.**

_But deep down all you want is love, the pure kind we all dream of. But we cannot escape the past, so you and I will never last, 'cause I'm a **Homewrecker.**_

"All I'm sayin' is that we should have a bit of fun while we're out."

"For the _fifth time. _We are not going to a male strip club, Brooky."

Fiona only rolled her eyes as the three women trotted into the small general store down the street from Daggett's penthouse. It was a five minute walk, but for the girls, it was much more. The walk was a much needed relief from the strict hold Bane had on them. Trish had given them $50, assuming they would do more than shop for female necessities. Of course, Brooky had wanted to let loose with the male kind during this time. Meg, however, only wanted to buy a pack of oreos all for herself.

It was the simple pleasures that brought smiles to the mercenaries' faces.

Fiona felt bad for the other grunts working under Bane's supervision. A select few had privileges such as this while others were stuck working on preparing the explosives around the city and aiding Bane in infiltrating the highest parts of the government in Gotham.

"Listen, Brooks. If we spot a cute guy, he's all yours, alright? Bane's expecting us back soon. And Meg, go wild with the oreos. Double stuff it, if that's what you want," Fiona laughed as she opened the shop's door, the ding ringing through the small market.

In all seriousness, this was quite dangerous.

Fiona's face had been caught on the security cameras during the Stock Exchange's romp. Her face, along with Greg's, had been plastered next to Bane's on every newspaper in town. Carefully pulled her sweatshirt hood up, Fiona kept her head low, avoiding eye contact as much as she could.

She followed Meg to the hygiene aisle, passing by a young man browsing through toothbrushes. He kept his head low, but Fiona grimaced as she felt his eyes on her back. Little did she know, that same young man would be the same person she would bestow her life upon in the following three months of her life.

His name was John Blake.

* * *

When the trio returned to the penthouse, they arrived to find it in shambles. Tables were flipped, papers were everywhere. Bookcases were knocked over one another. At the foot of the stairs, Daggett's mangled body rested in a pool of blood. Meg rolled the body over, her face contorting into disgust as she swallowed.

His face wasn't even recognizable.

It was in that moment that the girls knew who had killed him.

"What the fuck happened while we were gone?" Fiona screeched as Barasd emerged from Daggett's study bearing a suitcase and a laptop.

"Bane killed him. We don't need him anymore. We're moving."

"Again?"

Barsad only nodded at Brooks causing the curvy woman to groaned loudly and curse. "You gotta fuckin' kidding me. I can't believe this."

Barsad laughed as he handed the laptop to Meg and the suitcase to Fiona. "I wish I was. But the fire is starting, Sweet. We need to move. Grab anything valuable along with your belongings. It will come in handy later."

Fiona nodded, placing the suitcase down and making her way to her room in the guest wing, just as Meg and Brooklyn did the same. She sighed loudly, knocking her down the door lazily before grabbing the small backpack at the foot of her bed. Quickly grabbing the few clothes she had, she shoved them into the pack before snatching her journal and pen from the desk.

She cursed, realizing Bane had her book.

Well, not _her _book. Her brother's book. There was no way she was leaving that here. It meant too much to her.

Quickly grabbing her backpack and throwing it over one shoulder, she exited the room and closed the door before scurrying down the hall and to the master suite with Bane had claimed the first night of taking up residence. No one complained. After all, he was the leader. Knocking on the door, she called out.

"Sir?"

"Come in."

Opening one of the two double doors, she stepped inside, amazed at the immaculate cleanliness of the room. A pair of boots rested by the bed along with a crumpled heap of a shirt. Fiona picked it up, her eyes narrowing at the dark liquid on it. She grimaced. It was blood.

Most likely Daggett's face juice.

"What is it, Fiona?"

Placing her backpack down, she weaved around the corner, spotting Bane washing his hands in the porcelain sink, his eyes set in the mirror in front of him. Fiona swallowed, her hands flying to her pockets.

Bane was huge.

In every aspect of the word.

This biceps must have been the size of her head if not bigger. His hands as well were large and calloused, bearing the weight of killing for years. His back was clouded with menacing scars and burns, no doubt from fights or bullets piercing his skin. As he turned to dry his hands, Fiona's eyes trained down his front side, fear building in her gut at the sight of his broad shoulders and stomach, both taut with muscles.

He was a brick wall, and as he laughed, Fiona snapped her gaze to his mask.

"Staring is quite rude, Fiona."

"Sorry," she muttered, "I'm here for my book."

"Wuthering Heights?"

She nodded.

"On the desk."

She stalked over to the desk by the window, her fingers flying to the cover and curling around the spine. Fiona quickly thanked him before shoving the book into her backpack, her movements frantic and quick.

"Fiona."

Her eyes lifted to see Bane tugging a shirt over his head. She watched as he rolled up his sleeves and grabbed the vest the hung on the bedpost. He then tugged that over his head too.

"You have no reason to fear me," he began, his dark eyes following her as she pulled the backpack onto her back, "You do not need to be so weary around me."

Fiona laughed. "Tell that to the girl who's still recovering from our last one-on-one session."

"You look fine."

"It's called make-up."

"I'm talking about your spirit."

"Fuck spirit, my back looks like you took a fuckin' cheese grater to it, boss."

He laughed before silencing himself, his fur jacket being pulled onto his hulking form. "I am sorry. It had to be done. You needed to be taught discipline."

"You would make a real shitty father."

"You would make an extremely terrible mother as well, Fiona."

Fiona rolled her eyes. "Thanks, boss."

"Of course. Any time," Bane chortled, his hands searching through the nightstand drawer as he pulled out a small handgun and tucked it into the back of this pants. Fiona took this as her cue to leave, her back turning on the man as she headed for the door. In mid-step, she paused, hearing his voice.

"Fiona?"

"Yeah, sir?"

"I need your help with something tonight. I'll send Barsad for you when it's time."

She swallowed and nodded, "Sure."

Inside, she was pleading with God he wasn't going to kill her. She hadn't done anything wrong...

Had she?

* * *

**Can anyone guess Fiona's favourite crime movie? _Hint: Mobsters. Though, that aint much ova' hint._**


	16. Skinny Love

**A/N: You guys better thank me for this. It's late, and this chapter is cute.**

* * *

**VXI.**

_C'mon, skinny love what happened here...?_

That night was the night he said he needed her help.

The night was also the night he broke the Bat.

The sewers were a gloomy and wet difference from the warm and safe penthouse Fiona had spent the last three weeks of her life in. She hated the sewers, but as GPD became more aware of their presence in the city, Fiona knew it was safer for them down here and they could all work more efficiently. Stalking towards her bed, Fiona plopped her small frame down, her chest tight with the looming fear of Bane's request.

It was all she thought about ever since he asked her hours before.

It was all she thought about when she watched his beat the shit out of the Batman.

It was all she thought about when she settled down and opened her book.

Scowling, Fiona flipped to the page Bane had doggy eared and read the sentence he had highlighted in yellow.

"..._he had ceased to express his fondness for her in words, and recoiled with angry suspicion from her girlish caresses, as if conscious there could be no gratification in lavishing such marks of affection on him_."

"What're you reading?" Fiona jumped as Barsad's head poked into her room. Shutting her book she sat up.

"_Wuthering Heights. _What do you need?"

"Bane asked to see you," he nodded, "You know where to find him."

Fiona swallowed, standing. Before Barsad took his leave, Fiona coughed. He poked his head back in, raising a brow at him.

"You know what he wants with me?"

Barsad frowned, "I have no clue. Be careful. He's in a mood. Can't tell if it's good or bad."

Fiona found out it was a good mood some 3 minutes later when she knocked on the door to his "office" (which was really a large open closet with a bed, a bathroom, and a desk) and was greeted by him humming along to a certain operatic tune playing on the radio.

She almost laughed.

"You're peppy."

"Yes. It seems you are not," he retorted, returning back to his desk as he flicked through some papers, "Have a seat, I'll be done in a minute. In the meantime, try not to be so uptight. The _fire is starting_, Fiona. You don't need to panic."

She sat on the edge of the bed... well, more of a cot and watched him scribble on blueprints while he hummed along to the staccato french lyrics that seemed to cloud the thick air. Fiona fiddled with her shirt sleeve, tugging at the torn and mangled fabric as she watched Bane, her chest tighter than before.

After what seemed like ages, he straightened his shoulders and reached to silence the radio.

"I need your help."

"...With?"

He stood now, his boots making hollow steps as he approached her on the cot. Settling his bulky form next to her, he watched her flinch.

"My mask," he sighed, "I do need to eat."

"You want me to help?"

"Not feed me. Remove the mask."

Fiona almost laughed, "I got that part."

Bane squinted, his eyebrows knotting together as he watched with interest. "You're so frightened, Fiona. You do a terrible job at hiding your fear."

"I've never had to hide it..." she muttered, shrugging offhandedly, "Not until now."

"Why?"

"Fear is a sign of weakness."

"Fear is also a sign of level-headedness."

Fiona only grunted. She watched him stand, his figure blocking the light from the lamp that rested on his desk. The yellow, warm light seemed to bathe the room in a false comfort, one that Fiona knew not to trust.

"Come here."

She did as she was told, standing to her feet and following him as he sat in the desks chair. He turned the chair, it's legs scraping on the concrete. He was facing her now, his hands outstretched for hers to take. Fiona let him take the smaller hands into his, her face contorting into a confused look as he lifted them to the mask.

"You must be quick."

"Why?"

He laughed, "It's extremely painful, Fiona."

"... How are you not scared?"

Bane's hands flattened hers against the side of his face, letting his fingers hover above hers. She watched with interest and seriousness as the large, strong weapons cradled hers with such kindness and gentleness.

It was terrifying.

"Unlike you, I have had much practice hiding my fear. I have learned to hide it. It takes time, but when a man such as myself must do it so often, you become a master quickly."

She nodded, but only slightly, his eyes blinking as she grasped the small knobs on either side of the leather facial respirator.

"...Do I just unbuckle it...?"

He nodded, "I'd prefer if you didn't look at me once it is off..."

She blinked, "Is that why you wear it?"

"No, no, no. I wear it to keep away the pain. My face, though a bit rough around the edges, is quite fine."

"No facial deformities?"

"No facial deformities. Though, my nose isn't exactly perfect... And I've been told I have sharp chin."

Fiona laughed. Maybe that was how he hid the fear. _Humor. _It was working. It was calming her nerves, and while she watched him silently, she could sense the twinkle in his eyes. There was an air of anxiety behind his clipped humor. It comforted Fiona to know it was there. He was human, aside from all popular beliefs.

"Go ahead. Unclip it."

There was a hiss and a cough as Bane's hand flew up to catch the mouthpiece. He gave her a curt nod, allowing her to recoil and saunter back to her spot on his bed. Once she was there, he dropped the mask quickly and faced the desk, the only thing Fiona could see was the tan line his mask left.

His movements were rushed and hurried as he shoveled down the can of vegetable soup that was on his desk. His shoulders sagged, and the weight of the pain seemed to wear on him with every aching moment.

Fiona frowned as he groaned, his fingers tightening into a fist.

"Fiona."

She stood up, stalking to his side, watching as he fumbled to breathe into the mouth piece. "Help me put it back on."

Slowly taking it from his shaking hands, she watched as his eyes closed tightly, his fists gripping the metal chair tightly. Pausing, Fiona spoke up.

"... Bane... Can I see? Just for a second?"

He shook his head.

"No."

Fiona frowned deeply, her shoulders dropping in defeat, "Please? I just wanna see..."

"Fiona, put the mask on."

She pursed her lips, "But-"

"Do what you must. Be quick about it. In case you have not noticed, I am in pain."

She dropped the mask from his mouth and let her dark eyes flick across his face. Though it was ridden with pain and a heavy grimace, Fiona found herself _liking it._ He did have a sharp chin along with a sharp jawline. his brow grew taut as Fio smiled.

"Like what you see?" he grunted.

She placed the mask upon his face, buckling it quickly and standing.

"Good?"

He nodded.

"Alright. Well. That was a bit of a bonding experience, wasn't it?"

Bane laughed, inhaling deeply. "Certainly was."

Fiona only smiled timidly, making her way to the door. She opened it and before she left, she poked her head out.

"Bane?"

"Hm?"

"You're pretty handsome."

He only laughed.


	17. White Blank Page and Swelling Rage

**A/N: If you have never heard the song 'If I Had A Heart' by Fever Ray, then I advise you look it up. It has been unofficially donned Bane's theme by me. "This willnever end, gimme war, gimme war, gimme war." Also, a song you should listen to: 'DJ Ease My Mind' by Niki & The Doves. This song had it's lyrics used for most of the first 6 chapters. Amazing music. Anyways. On with the chapter!**

* * *

**VXII.**

_A white blank page and a swelling rage... _

"Mag? It's me, Selina."

Scowling at the silence she received in response, Selina pounded her clenched fist on the door once more. The tall woman spared a glance at her watch, noticing she had been standing in front of the silent apartment door for a good 10 minutes. Selina was beginning to worry. The stench of sweat and mold made her nostrils itch with a foul irritation, while the shadows that danced across the halls played tricks on her eyes.

"Mag? If you don't open this god damn door..." Selina growled, planting her shoulder against the wood and pushing, "I'll knock it down."

The cat burglar proceeded to ram her lithe body against the door a series of times. She let out a loud groan, expressing her frustration to the entire hall. She flicked a few strands of hair out of her eyes only before making her way down the main staircase. Her heels clicked against the wet cement, attracting the attention of the elderly woman at the front counter.

"Are you the landlord?"

The woman gave Selina a quizzical look as she leaned against the counter, her expression dark and clouded with worry.

"Yes, that'd be me," she spoke strictly, "Do you _need _something, dear?"

"The key to apartment 112b."

"I'm sorry, dear, but I can't give it to you. You're not Fiona or Ma-"

"I think something's wrong," Selina choked, her downcast eyes become rimmed in a red as she fought to keep the tears back.

The woman froze. It took her a moment, but she nodded, stepping out from behind the counter.

Her eyes fell, before she nodded again. "Come with me... I think you're right. I haven't seen that child in three days."

"... Thank you."

The two hurried up the stairs, their footsteps frantic. When the reached the door, the landlady quickly shoved the keys into the hole, the whole ring jingling loudly. Selina swallowed, her fingers drumming against her leg. With a click, the doorknob turned, and the door was pushed open.

Selina called out again as she stepped in. "Maggie?"

Her shoes were there, resting next to a pair of Fiona's heels that she had left behind. Selina scowled, her fingers dancing across Mag's coat which hung off of a hook to her right. Slowly, the brunette took the corner, her eyes scanning the living room.

It was no secret Mag was a druggie. The junkie shot up on everything she could get her hands on. Heroin, coke, oxycontin, weed... But the pill bottles that laid around the carpet... _The empty pill bottles._

Selina's hand sprung up to cover her mouth. Quickly, she rushed through the apartment.

"Mag? God damn it, Mag!" Her body launched through the kitchen. _No sign of her._

She kicked down the bathroom door. _Nothing._

Selina hurried to the bedroom which she and Fiona shared. The door was slightly ajar, the light from the living room spilling into it slightly. Selina fingers curled around the knob and she pushed, letting the door swing open slowly.

Her chest tightened, a garbled scream losing itself in her throat.

What Selina saw was enough to crush her.

* * *

Selina sat on the fire escape of the building across the street, watching the police activity in the apartment across the street. The woman wiped her face, her nails clawing at her sweater, pulling it closer. She couldn't believe it was happening...

Overdose.

Mag would have wanted it to end some other way. Selina knew. The woman had grown up in the same area as her for years, and as neighbors, they got to know one another. Old Town was her town, but it was also the drugs' town. That was why Fiona and Mag lived there. Selina scowled, sighing. The word flashed in her mind again.

Overdose.

Mag would have rather gone down with bullet holes ridden in her body, or a fucking piano falling on top of her. Anything but an overdose. Selina knew Fiona would be furious. Selina, herself, was furious. In the course of three days, she had successfully fucked over anyone who cared.

Bruce Wayne, for a start. She sold him out. Sold him to Bane. In the process, she had spotted Fiona though, onlooking as her merciless leader pummelled Bruce into the sewer water. The woman watched on with interest, her eyes never leaving the hulking form of Bane. Selina couldn't watch, so she left, her head in a spin.

She was going to tell Mag the next day, but things got in her way. Much like Daggett's death and the loss of the most important thing she could grasp. The Program. The Program that could wipe her slate clean.

Now Mag. She was dead. Bruce was dead, or, at least she thought. Selina didn't want to think about it.

All she knew was that tomorrow, she was flying out of this place. Away from it all.

* * *

"Just like that?"

"What do you mean?"

"He just took it all off?"

"You mean the mask?"

"No, his pants. _Of course I mean the fucking mask, _Fiona."

"Jeez, calm your tits, Brooky."

Fiona laughed, reclining in her bed. Her arms, propped behind her head ached from their days work of looting Lucius Fox's personal armory. The woman had been put to work, overseeing the movement of handheld weapons. Fiona had to admit, though she was no gun expert, the handguns Fox produced were certainly something. Each had its own special perk, and though Bane spoke of the weapons like they were the cure to world hunger, Fiona really only took interest because they looked fucking sweet.

"C'mon. Gimme the details! Cute, sexy, or 'ew'?"

Fiona laughed, shaking her head. "Not telling."

Brooky and Meg groaned in unison.

"Come on!"

Fiona shrugged before closing her eyes, "I feel like it was something he trusted me with. I dunno if I should just _tell _you guys... I mean... I may need a bit of _compensation_, if ya' know what I mean."

"You sly fuck."

"I'll give you two oreos. Highest offer."

Fiona nodded, holding out her hand to Meg who stubbornly dug out the two oreos from their package and stuffed them in the woman's hand. Fiona grinned cheekily, laughing slightly as the two women motioned for her to continue.

"Eh... Not cute. Definitely not. No, he's not a _boy_..."

She paused, nobbling on the cookie. "Not an 'ew'. God. Even if you were _blind _he wouldn't be an 'ew'."

Fiona quickly separated the cookie, popping the half without the filling into her mouth. "Not exactly _sexy _either... If that makes sense... Handsome, in a rugged sense."

"Like Indiana Jones, right?" Brooky spoke with such conviction, it took Fiona a minute to realize she was serious.

"Sure, kid. Like Indy," Fiona laughed, "But, to answer your previous question, no facial deformities. Helluva lotta scarring though. But, I wouldn't mind."

"Nice lips?"

Fiona snorted, "I dunno. I didn't _check_."

Meg grinned ear to ear, an oreo in her hands. "You know, I think that's nice. You and Bane."

"What do you mean, 'You and-"

Fiona was cut off by a sharp knock at the door. The girls stood quickly, oreos shoved under pillows and magazines shoved under bunks. Brooky stood first, opening the door quickly.

It was Barsad.

"Bane wants to see Fiona."

Brooky grinned. "Go see your man, Fio."

Barsad laughed once, nodding to the woman behind Brooky. He gave her a small smile before explaining. "He wants you to join him in dumping the Bat."

Nodding, Fiona pulled on her vest. On her way out the door, Fiona punched Brooky.

"He isn't 'my man', you shithead."

"Denial!"

The door was slammed in her face just before she gave Brooky another fistful of her mind.

* * *

**A song you feel represents Fiona and Bane's relationship?**


	18. Brother!

**A/N: I apologize for my absence and lack of updates. It was my birthday yesterday, and I saw TDKR for the third time. I want you guys to know that I've worked out the whole plot and things may be coming a bit faster now. :D Not sure how many chapters, but, hey. We can go for it. This one is a bit long. Actually, it's the longest so far. I hope you guys don't hate me for my slow updates. That's what happens when the plot begins to thicken. Thank you to everyone who's followed and favourited! Drop me a line! I'd love to chat!**

**This next few chapters will be pretty laid back. Things are about to get rough. Oh, and Fiona's favourite crime movie is Scarface, mainly because she can relate. xD S_ay hello to my little friend..._**

* * *

**XVIII.**

_You'll never know how it feels to be the one who's left behind..._

Dreams.

They were an odd thing. Combining the deepest and most odd commodities of one's brain and throwing them in situations, ones where you could neither control them or make it work in your favor. Fiona had been having a lot of dreams lately. From the occasional shooting, or the not so occasional easter bunny, the dreams had been becoming weirder and weirder.

She simply blamed her current state of living. After all, Bane was exactly the perfect landlord and the sewers weren't exactly _home._

Her dreams were always of home. Either her real home -a small suburb home where she grew up- or the apartment. Fiona missed both despertately, the shit hole apartment more than the perfect family setting. Fiona missed Mag, her sister by heart. She missed the blonde with every fiber in her being... -oh.

Her dream was beginning to get weird.

There was a man in the apartment now, replacing Mag. He had broad shoulders and a bulking chest, the obvious muscles in his arms showing easily through his shirt. He was bald, and scars littered his head in odd manners, hinting that maybe he had fallen a lot as a child. Fiona stiffened from her place on the couch, realizing she was frozen. She went to call out, but panicked when she couldn't. The figure just remained there, staring at her with gray eyes that seemed so familiar.

Fiona shivered as he opened his mouth.

"Good morning, Fiona."

She squinted. It was Bane. Fio knew that voice anywhere.

He was stepped towards her now, the tunnel vision setting in as the rest of the dim apartment faded out. Her eyes locked with his as he stepped forward, a confidence filled step and the chuckle of a laugh making her fearful.

"Come here, my dear."

In a flash, his body was resting on the coffee table in front of her, and for a second she wondered why the room was spinning. Her eyes jutted to her thigh, where his fingers were dancing upwards, the rough skin massaging her soft skin. Fiona shivered, not remembering the last time someone had done that to her. The burning in the pit of her stomach ignited when she blinked, realizing she wasn't in the apartment anymore.

She was with him.

Her gaze faltered across his body, bare and simple. Scars decorated him of battles won and lost. But his face was what made her stiffen. It told the story of a fight, a battle. One she did not know. One she could not translate. The fire in his eyes were there, but the scars running down his lips made her question it.

She wanted to make it all okay like she always did.

Fiona stepped forward, but with a blink, she noticed it had all changed.

Bane was beneath her, his fingers digging at the muscles in her back in a feral attempt to pull her closer. She obliged, softly tucking her head beneath his chin, enjoying the feeling of protection. He never stopped working at her back, massaging hard enough to bruise.

She moaned, his lips brushing against her forehead as he pushed her upward, his hands exploring his stomach. Fiona twitched.

It wasn't Bane anymore.

It was Daggett.

She shrieked, thrashing about and kicking her legs furiously, sending bedsheets and-

"Some dream you were having, Skins," Barsad muttered, punching her arm and sending her reeling forward, gasping for breath. Fiona groaned, clutching her head and she placed both elbows on her knees.

"Where are we?"

Barsad stood, his normal attire a bit more light colored than normal. "Just over Saudi Arabia."

"Y'know, I'm no genius, but isn't Saudi Arabia pretty fuckin' big, Barsad?"

He only laughed.

"Ah! Fiona! Nice of you to join us!" Bane cooed, exiting from the cockpit where he had gone earlier in the flight. The drew back the blue curtain of the private jet with an exuberant hand gesture, nodding to her. The corners of his eyes were crinkled in a cheerful manner, and for a second Fiona wondered who he had killed.

She glanced around the cabin to see if anyone was missing.

"No one's dead... Why are you so cheery, Boss?"

Bane laughed, the sound becoming a mangled breath as it left the mask. "We are almost there. It will be time for a bit of celebrating, you know. We _are _dropping the Bat Wayne into The Pit."

Fiona shrugged. "Food makes me happy, but this is pretty great too."

Barsad threw her a pack of peanuts, and she rolled her eyes. "I was being sarcastic, you fuck."

The plane shook, and there was a sudden drop as it began to lose altitude.

Bane's hulking form leaned over hers as he peered out the window, patting her shoulder roughly. "Come on, up and at 'em. We are here, dear Fiona."

They were ushered up and out of the plane as soon as it landed, Fiona being the first one out. The _Ladies First_ rule apparently still applies in the presence of international terrorists and hardened war criminals.

Fiona's eyes squinted violently as the rush of warm air greeted her face in a violent gust of sand filled wind. She blinked furiously, bracing a slim hand on her forehead to block out the hot rays of sun from her eyes. Stumbling down the private jet's steps, Fiona straightened her shoulders and swung her gun around, bracing one elbow on it.

"Jesus. It's hot as balls out here."

Scrambling to dig her sunglasses out of her pocket, Fiona placed the aviators on her face and nodded to Barsad who had made his way to stand next to her. Kicking a pile of sand with her boots, the woman watched as Bane's hulking form appeared with a large sack slung over her shoulder.

"Barsad," Bane spoke quickly, nodding to his second-in-command, "Take care of Wayne. Bring him to the Pit. Fiona and I will head into the city. Gather supplies for our stay."

"Don't you want to see Mr. Wayne, sir?"

Bane laughed, "I will have time. Our stay will span a few days. Perhaps tomorrow."

Barsad nodded, taking the body bag with a grunt as it was lugged over his shoulder. Fiona gave him a cocky smile as he bid them farewell, following a few of Bane's men to a old and beaten van. Fiona watched as the van started up, its engine sputtering angrily.

Fiona squinted behind her glasses, turning to Bane.

"You think they'll actually make it through the desert in that thing?"

"Not really."

Fiona laughed and turned her attention back to the van, which had backed up sharply, rocking dangerously on its wheels, and sped off, kicking up sand behind it. Snorting, Fiona shook her head.

"Man. I _liked _Barsad, too. He was a good guy."

Bane gave a chuckle, his hands flying to his neck to tug his scarf up over his mouth and head, wrapping it quickly. The dirt ridden material covered everything but his gray eyes. The handgun strapped to his thigh and bullet proof vest protecting his chest made him seem more intimidating than usual, especially when he called out to Fiona.

"Put your scarf on. You're lucky I'm not making you wear a burqa."

Fiona's brow scrunched.

"The hell is a _burqa?_"

"Traditional dress for the women here. Showing skin isn't something that is exactly approved of. At least covering your head will show respect for their culture," his voice was muffled as he strode towards her, his large hands gripping the scarf.

Fiona scowled as he pulled the frayed material up, covering her nose and forehead swiftly. She grunted as he patted her head softly before turning on his heel and rushing off of the dirt runway. In front of him, a small building rested in the wake of the jet.

Fiona turned, watching him with a curious expression. Bane quickly disappeared behind the home, silence following him.

"What the hell is he _doing_..._?_"

There were shouts in Arabic as Bane circled back around the home a few seconds later, a large camel tethered to the rope he clutched in his right hand. A man in a tunic and headdress threw his arms in the air, shouting in a language Fiona didn't know. Bane turned to him, speaking in the same language, his hand clutching the handgun on his thigh. The man shook his head motioning to the camel. Bane continued on, meeting Fiona on the runway.

She stood, her shoulders slack and her head tilted slightly. Beneath her scarf, her mouth hung slightly open.

"You just stole that guy's camel."

"That I did."

Bane gave the animal a quick command and it teetered, hunching downward. Bane adjusted the leather saddle, which was adorned with scarves and bags, before straddling it, motioning for Fiona to get on.

"What, I don't get my own?"

"I don't believe I trust you with a camel."

She snorted, "Can you just steal another one?"

"Get on, Fiona."

She groaned, slinging her AK-47 back over her shoulder before she straddled the saddle like Bane, squeaking as the camel rose off of the ground. Her hands quickly gripped the back of Bane's vest, earning a groan from him. Fiona sputtered the camel made an odd noise.

"I'm gunna fall!"

"Just hold on, dear. You'll be fine."

She swallowed, her small arm wrapping snugly around Bane's midsection, her fingers looping themselves into the pocket ties on either side of the kevlar vest. Bane chuckled as she gripped furiously, squeaking again as the animal lurched forward, sending Fiona's face into his back.

"Ow."

"Graceful as always, Fiona."

* * *

The rural Saudi market was busting at the seams with activity. Each stall, though makeshift with wood and cardboard was home to a sales person, one who shouted in a foreign language at Fiona as she browsed with Bane. The skinny woman retracted her hand from a beaded necklace as the woman yelled at her, using a tone that Fiona recognized as scorning.

"She says 'hands off' those necklaces are for unmarried _women_'."

Fiona groaned. "I hate not having a chest."

Bane laughed as he explained silk headwraps, the patterns varying from a light blue to a dark red. "We can make you look as the women do here. Would you like that?"

Fiona watched him untie one of the scarves from the top of the stand and tug it down towards her.

"I'm not really planning on picking up any male friends, so, being female can wait for a while."

Fiona thought she saw Bane roll his eyes. "We will be staying at an old friend's home, so you're required to act as a woman would act."

"You're going to have to give my etiquette lessons, big man," Fiona snorted, "I've never been very ladylike."

Bane chuckled, "I'm afraid I've never been as well."

As Fiona laughed, he paid for the black scarf, handing the man a few coins and thanking him quietly. Fiona followed him through the market, dodging past small children, chickens, and a few boisterous men. Bane glanced from stall to stall.

"What are you looking for?"

"Dresses."

"I don't think they have your size."

She was given a look, one laced with amusement. Fiona smiled at him, laughing a bit.

"You're such a comedian, dear."

"I know, I know."

He quickly made a b-line towards a certain stall, his shoulders straightening at the stall's owner. Fiona squinted behind her aviators. Manning the stall was a figure, covered in a long light blue gown, their head covered completely and the only thing showing were the eyes. Fiona inhaled as Bane motioned to her.

"_That_ is a burqa."

Fiona scowled, "Isn't it hot in there?"

"I'm not sure. I've never worn one."

They approached the stall, Bane bowing slightly as he greeted the woman. Her eyes scrunched like his did, and for a second, Fiona wondered if it was some kind of unspoken language here. Eyes. What they did, how they moved.

Bane spoke quickly, languidly, and the woman laughed.

"She does not look like a woman," her accent was heavy of a middle eastern taste, but the woman extended her hand to Fiona, "My name is Hala. Your friend here tells me you are American. I do not know much English, but I can help you find a dress as best I can."

Fiona removed her sunglasses, tucking them in her pocket. She pulled the wrap down past her chin, giving the woman a smile. "Thank you."

Bane spoke with her once more before handing her the scarf he had bought minutes before. The woman nodded as he spoke before retreating to the stall's back area. She returned a moment later with silk tunics that matched the headscarf nicely. Bane made a sound of approval, watching Fiona as she examined the fabric.

"Take your pick."

Fiona stuttered, "The only time I've worn a dress was my cousins wedding. I was 14 years old. I need a little help here."

"You would look nice is blue," the woman chuckled, "Your friend and I think the same thing."

"You think I would look nice in blue?" Fiona asked, grinning at Bane. He only shrugged. She turned to the woman, watching as she laid out the three clothing pieces, "Which one do _you_ like the best?"

The woman froze, "Me?"

Fiona nodded.

She quickly reached for a lighter blue gown, holding it out. "I think it would look very nice on you."

"That's what I need. I'll take it."

Bane only laughed and gave the woman the money.

* * *

Tugging on the reins of the camel, Bane nudged it onwards, up through the sand to the small path to the right, leading up to the home that rested upon a sandy, rocky hill. The house, a cement structure was like many homes in this country, reminding him of his real home.

Bane stiffened as Fiona moaned in her sleep, her arms tightening around his waist as her head lulled to the side and buried itself into his shoulder. He chuckled softly, enjoying the rise and fall of her chest against his back.

The ride out of the market and to the countryside has been a slow one, all thanks to the rather elderly camel Bane had grabbed. He swore it was going to be the death of him when he realized how slow the animal was. Fiona didn't seem to mind though. The young woman continued to ask him questions regarding the land, where they were going, and his favourite color. The woman cuddled up against his back was certainly different, and for a few moments, Bane wondered if she had an underlying mental condition. Her hands moved to his waist as she mumbled and he shook his head.

She was far too... normal.

Vests had been discarded into packs hours ago as the sun beat down on them. Head wraps stayed on, and as Bane examined Fiona briefly, he noticed the sunburns along her t-shirt sleeves. No doubt he had them too. A sunburn on his forearms was prominent, along with the backs of his hands.

"Fiona."

She didn't budge, only squirmed in her sleep, writhing closer to him. Bane's eyes closed as he exhaled, realizing the only person to ever do this to him was Talia and even then, she was a mere 7 years old and terrified of a storm outside The Pit. He remembers her curling up next to him, his back turned as he slept. She would cling, burying her face into the skin there, making him wake.

He sighed, grabbing her hand and shaking it slightly. "Fiona, wake up."

She slowly straightened, her muscles working as she stretched against his back. "how long was I asleep for?"

"Most of the ride. We are here."

She looked up, and Bane stifled a laugh. "You have a sunburn around your glasses, Fiona. I warned you. You did not listen."

She froze, "You're shitting me, right?"

Bane shook his head as the camel knelt down, allowing them to stand and shuffle off.

"You are very burnt."

"Tonight is going to be hell," she mustered, tripping and landing in the sand, "You're lucky you wore your head cover, Mr. Burqa Burqa."

Bane tied the camel up, throwing one of the satchels to Fiona half heartedly. She glanced behind him, snorting.

"Barsad made it."

Bane turned around, looking at the sand caked van. "Well. That is certainly surprising."

There was a sudden commotion from the house and loud laughter. An older man appeared on the front porch, his arms outstretched as he called out to Bane.

"Akh!"

* * *

**What's a place you've always wanted to visit?**


	19. The Man and A Woman

**A/N: Have you guys ever had tapioca pudding? God that shit is really great. The king of puddings, I must say. Anyways, a few things before we begin. One, the following week I will _not be around. _D: That means no chapters for the next week. This story isn't over! No, ma'am/sir. Don't worry. In a weeks time you will have the aftermath of this... _sticky _chapter. **

**Another thing. The idea for Bane's venom is all thanks to ecto1B (MAH SISTAH FRUM ANOTHAH MISTAH), who I must say, has a wonderful story out right now called Bat Appetite. Please, please, please check it out. Bruce/OC/John? I think yes. She claims that she got the idea from Ms. J. K. Rowling herself. Bart Crouch Jr.!**

**LAST BUT NOT LEAST:**

**The following chapter is rated M for sexual content and lots of it. So, ha.**

* * *

**XIX.**

_What would men be without women? Scarce, sir... mighty scarce._ -Mark Twain

Bane leaned back in his wicker chair, his boots planted on the table as he leaned onto the back legs of the seat. His mind was elsewhere as Barsad cracked a drunken joke in Arabic, exciting laughter to the whole dining room. Bane raised a brow as Fiona kept a straight face, eyeing the lamb dish in front of her. The woman seemed uncomfortable, giving her glass of wine a small look.

She had been quiet ever since they entered the home hours earlier, earning hugs and smiles from Bane's acquaintance. The man who owned the house, Asmaul Haladia, was a doctor who had taken care of him when he worked with the League of Shadows. The older man was retired now, living in the countryside with his daughter, Nadia.

Perhaps that was why Fiona was uncomfortable?

Nadia, donned in a headscarf and tunic, greeted her with a smile and a hug. It had been clear that Fiona was fidgety around the other woman. Intimidated? Bane would understand why. Nadia was beautiful. Long brown lashes rimmed dark brown eyes. Tan skin, long hair. She was far prettier than Fiona was in many aspects, Bane reasoned.

Fiona was more of an edgy looking female, with such sharp cheek bones he feared they could cut him.

Fiona cleared her throat, interrupting both the laughter and his thoughts, standing with her plate.

There was a hustle and Barsad quipped something about her new dress. Fiona frowned as everyone laughed, as she was clearly confused. She couldn't understand half the things the men were talking about, and as Nadia looked up towards her and giggled, Fiona gave her a queasy smile before retreating to the small kitchen. Clearly she didn't know Arabic.

Bane watched through the doorway with slight interest as she leaned against the counter, gripping her glass before throwing the rest back.

She had showered after arriving, and with some difficult, she had pulled on the light blue tunic. Bane was shocked it fit, seeing that Fiona was much smaller than he expected. But, it hung loosely and she didn't complain. Her face looked older without the heavy makeup she normally wore, and Bane wondered if she felt as naked as she looked. Her hair, normally caked with product was naturally wavy, and he found himself enjoying the way her bangs curled up against her tan forehead.

Scowling, he realized he had been liking too much of her lately.

Maybe he was spending too much time around her. Furrowing his brow, he realized how often she was by his side, offering assistance with the simplest tasks. Did she enjoy helping? Did she actually care to help? Or was she trying to ensure her safety among the ranks?

He would ask her on a later date, but now, he was hungry. That meant he needed her help.

"Fiona?"

Her head poked from around the corner, a refilled wine glass in her hands. "Yea sir?"

Bane stood, nodding to the table and giving them all a simple 'goodnight'. He grasped Asmaul's hand, thanking him thoroughly before taking his plate and motioning Fiona to follow him. She did as she was motioned and creeped along in his shadow, both worried and concerned. She gripped her wine glass, ducking her head as the group bid them all goodnight.

His footsteps were heavy against the wooden stairs as he trekked upward, weaving through the halls and through the doors until he came to the bedroom which he had settled in earlier. Fiona weaseled in behind his hulking mass, gently nudging the door shut as Bane settled down at the desk. He dropped his plate with a clatter, throwing his body into the rickety chair before eyeing Fiona as she stood faithfully with her wine.

"Are you alright, Fiona?"

Her eyes snapped to him, eyeing his sloped form as he fiddled with the tubes on his mask, his legs planted firmly on the wooden floor. "What?"

"You heard me."

"I'm fine," she chortled, swigging the rest of her wine before shaking her head. She pointed to his face, swallowing, "You want to eat?"

Bane nodded slightly, earning a small sigh from the woman. She settled on her heels, her fingers dancing across the metal of the mask. She was about to toy with the buckles before Bane spoke up.

"Grab my bag," he commanded quickly, motioning to the backpack which rested on the bed. She did, her eyes flicking about wildly. Fiona grabbed it, standing slowly and unzipping it. Bane stood and with two quick strides, he grabbed the bag from her.

Fiona grunted.

Shuffling through, he pulled out a flask and placed it on the desk.

"What's that?" she questioned, ditching her headscarf on the desk as she watched carefully.

"Our friend Doctor Pavel has helped me with a little something."

"The physicist you keep locked in the room down the hall?"

Bane's brow rose as he eyed her relaxed form which was perched on the bed.

"He screams for his wife a lot," she muttered before shaking her head and examining her nails, "Anyways, what's in the flask?"

"A formula."

She stared at it. Bane frowned, but, he knew she couldn't tell. "You've been acting awfully odd since we arrived, dear."

Fiona's eyes narrowed. "What kind of formula?"

"I'd appreciate it if you didn't dismiss me like that, _girl._ Watch yourself. You've become much too comfortable around me," Bane snapped, his eyes like daggers.

Fiona frowned, "I'm sorry."

"Next time, an apology will not cut it, dear."

She sighed, standing and straightening her shoulders. "I'm just a little homesick, that's all, sir."

Bane grunted. "Doctor Pavel called this 'Venom'. He claims it's a unique blend of pain medication, meant to last for a long bit of time," he began, grabbing her hands and tugging them upward to his face, "We shall see."

Fiona fumbled with the straps, nodding slightly. Bane could smell the wine on her as she breathed slowly, and when her breath hit his face, he winced. Pain over came his sense. Fiona grasped the flask from his hands, tugging the bottle up to his face, the cap unscrewed.

Bane's nostrils flared and she laughed quietly. "It s-smells.. _terrible._"

"Just drink it, Bane."

He threw the flask back quickly, the liquid seeping down his throat, leaving a hot trail down into his stomach. He winced before wiping his lips with his forearm. His muscles spasmed as another wave of pain washed over him one last time.

"Ah."

Fiona's dark eyes stared up at him expectantly.

"I... I believe it worked. Doctor Pavel didn't poison me."

Fiona grinned, laughing a bit before taking the flask and tossing it in her hands. "Well, this is definitely a positive experience."

Bane nodded, his hands flying to his face, touching the pale skin. He sighed, realizing it had been years since he had touched his own face like this, without pain and carefree. Ignoring Fiona, who was sniffing the flask with an upturned nose, Bane retreated to the balcony where he squeezed his large form through the doorway.

The air was cold and fresh against his skin, leaving an overall sense of calm on his being. His muscles relaxed as he leaned on his hands, pressing them against the cement railing.

He could hear Fiona behind him, carefully shutting the balcony door before taking a seat on the railing, resting her back against the house. For a second, worry danced across his features as she teetered. She reminded him of a young Talia, desperate for a bit of danger and adrenaline. Rolling his grey eyes at her as she grinned sheepishly, he settled against the opposite wall.

"How does it feel?" she asked after a few minutes of silence.

Bane licked his lips, "Foreign."

"Well, have Pavel make more. You can be like this now. You can be Bane without the mask."

"No one cared who I was until I put on the mask."

She pouted. "Fine. Down time, you can be without that _contraption_."

"That _contraption _kept me alive for more than 10 years of my life."

"How old are you?"

"Old."

She laughed, turning her attention back to the sand dunes across the horizon. Bane watched her for a moment longer, his thought dwelling on her gentle smile which graced her features for a split second before disappearing with the wind.

"Where do you hail from, Fiona?"

"What?"

"Where were you born?"

"Oh," she laughed, "Gotham. The suburbs."

"When I found you," he paused, "You were not in the suburbs."

Fiona laughed loudly, nodding, "You found me in that shitty club."

He nodded, not finding the humor in his words. "Tell me, Fiona, who are you?"

She eyed him for a moment, only breaking the gaze to look down at her hands. She kicked her legs, clearing her throat.

"I was born in North Gotham."

Bane rose a brow, "A wealthy district?"

"Both of my parents were doctors," she sighed heavily, "Everyone in my damn family was. Nurse, doctor, surgeons. That was my family."

"But you desired something else?"

"I guess you could say that. I was sick an' tired of being lectured for getting B+'s and A-'s. I was sick of being little miss goody goody. I was sick of being _well-off._ I wanted to be part of the underdogs. I wanted to run away and _not _go t'medical school. My brother had been accepted to Harvard Medical the day I ran away. I packed a bag, called up a friend, and got dropped off in Old Town. I had enough money... I walked dogs and babysat as a job. I was 16 then..."

"That was incredibly stupid."

"Tell me about it," she snorted, "I changed my name and cleared my name with the police. You put in word with the right people and they do anything for you."

"Your real name is not Fiona?"

"Nope," she shook her head, "It's Mary."

"Mary," Bane spoke as if he wasn't asking, but testing out the sound, "Biblical."

"Mother loved the Lord."

Bane chuckled, his fingers perched under his chin. "Tell me more."

She pouted, "I don't get your story?"

Bane mimicked her, sighing heavily and kicking the balcony floor. His lips tugged downwards into a frown. "Born and raised in Hell on Earth."

"The Pit?"

He only nodded. "Sent to serve out my father's sentence."

"Jesus," she breathed, "That's..."

"I do not seek pity, Mary."

Fiona's eyes narrowed dangerously and her voice fell. "_Don't_ call me that."

Bane's brows quirked upwards, "I'm sorry, I didn't hear you, Mary. Say again?"

"Do _not _call me Mary."

Fiona was on her feet now, his finger pointed dangerously at him, a scowl pulling on her face. Bane laughed, crossing his arms.

"Calm down, Mary, no need to get so _angry._"

Fiona quickly closed the gap between them, planting a heavy punch on his chest. She seethed, realizing the mistake on her part. Bane's hands grasped his forearm, twisting it dangerously behind her back. She cried out in pain, as she wiggle to get free of his grasp.

Bane swallowed, trying to ignore the feeling of her back pressed against him. He groaned, shoving her forward and dismissing her with the wave of his hand.

She panted, "I think _you_ are getting too comfortable around me."

Bane ignored her again, his thoughts trying to clear before he faced her again. He was a man. Men had needs. Bane hated to think about it, but that _certain _need hadn't been met in a while. He had other things to think about... Sex wasn't a necessity, though, it was certainly nice to have. He stiffened when the sudden image of Fiona perched on the bed wandered into his mind.

_She... He couldn't. No. Relations between coworkers. It was forbidden. Well... not forbidden... Not ideal, _Bane thought, _But... One night..._

After all, he only did have so long without his mask.

Fiona's brow was furrowed, a signal of her distress. His eyes flicked across her face, his breath hitching as she bit her lip.

_What would it be like to bite her lip...?_

He groaned, pushing off of the wall and making his way back into the bedroom, sighing as Fiona followed. Quickly, Bane settled at his desk to eat his food.

"Goodnight, Fiona."

Fiona simply pouted and shrugged, closing the door behind her.

* * *

"Fiona."

She groaned, swiping at the hand that shook her shoulder violently. Throwing her weight to her side, she rolled over, burying her face deeper into the pillow beside her, relishing in the cold against her face.

The hand found her once more, shaking at her. "Fiona!"

"What?!" she snapped tiredly, grumbling. Her eyes lulled open to see Nadia, Asmaul's daughter, smiling. "Oh... Hi..."

Nadia replied with something in Arabic, something Fiona didn't understand. Fiona quirked her head, scowling. "Listen. I don't understand anything you or anyone says..."

She repeated it again, and this time, Fiona understood one word.

'Bane'.

Thinking she got the gist of the sentence, Fiona nodded, giving the woman a smile. As soon as she was out of the room, Fiona stood and stretched, her smile disappearing completely. She cursed, stumbling around the dark room, searching for her robes. Grabbing the silk fabric, she lazily wrapped her form before pushing through the doorway.

The halls were silent, the occasional snore cutting through the air.

Fiona yawned, muffling it as she knocked gently on Bane's door. With in seconds, it was yanked open to reveal a half dressed Bane. His mask, just like earlier, was gone. She stiffened as his gaze landed on her.

"You alright?"

"No."

"Wha-"

It happened so fast, Fiona didn't remember breathing. She remembered his face near hers, but as far as the collision went, she assumed he had initiated it. She quickly became lost in it, moaning as his large hands cradled her head. His lips worked against hers, her tongue lashing out. Fiona gasped as he broke away, roughly shoving her inside the room and slamming the door behind him.

Butterflies attacked her senses as he picked her up, dropping her on the bed, before towering over her, his mouth latching onto her neck haphazardly. She moaned loudly, her fingers knotting themselves in the sheets.

"B-Bane..."

"Quiet," his fingers, clamped over her mouth, muffling a final moan as his tongue danced across her jugular.

"W-What are you do-"

"I said, 'Quiet', Fiona," he grinned as she mewed, her back arching as his fingers knotted themselves into his bangs, "You're terrible at following directions."

A shaky hand pressed against his abdomen in distress as his lips connected with hers once more in a fit of dominance. She protests were sloppy, her fingers raking across his skin below his navel. He gave a throaty laugh as she groaned, finding his belt buckle.

"Damn it."

His fingers tugged at the robes covering his body, untying them quickly. He gave an impish grin as his fingers grazed across her stomach, causing her whole body to go rigid beneath him. Fiona moaned slightly as his fingers dove beneath her waistline, teasing her.

"D-Damn you."

"Ah, Ah... Careful, my dear," he cooed, his lips tracing the outline of her bodice. He suckled the skin between her breasts, grinning as she cursed again.

This... This was what he needed.

**This was perfect.**

Fiona moaned again, her voice hoarse with frustration, "You fucking tease."

Bane stretched her hands above her head, his fingers dancing down her skin until it came to a rest just above her panty line. The expression on his face was smug and ridden with lust as she writhed, her voice cracking slightly under the pleasure. He kissed her again, swallowing as her fingers fiddled with his belt. He mumbled into her neck.

She moaned even louder than before.

"Be quiet, Fiona."

* * *

She woke up to the sun beating in from the balcony. The sheets, tossed about wildly and barely covering her skinny form, seemed to cling to her as her only defense. She rolled over, swallowing as she prepared to find Bane beside her.

Her brow furrowed to find his side of the bed unoccupied. His stuff was gone, his desk clear of any belongings.

He had left.

He had pulled a one night stand.

On her.

On Fiona Woods.

He...

Fiona sat up, searching for her clothes.

"That fucker."

* * *

**Smut or fluff? Which do you like better?**


	20. This Wasted Land

**A/N: Howdy, guys! I'm back from vacation and back with another chapter! Expect more soon! This chapter's lyrics were picked by my sister ecto1B from Led Zepplin's _Kashmir! _If you guys have some lyrics you would like me to throw in, drop me a review or a PM!**

* * *

**XX.**

_All I see turns to brown, as the sun burns the ground. And my eyes fill with sand, as I scan this wasted land._

"You _what?"_

"_You knew it was going to happen, Bane. I do not regret my actions, nor will I say I enjoy them."_

Bane dropped the cellphone from his ear, a sharp inhale making his fingers tighten into a fist. It had been a few days since he spoke with _Miranda, _and Bane found himself worrying about the young women. He always did, especially now, since their plan was in action. He loved the little girl like family, though she was not so little anymore. When Bane was younger, he relished in her innocence and light, but now with each waning hour, she grew dimmer and dimmer, on the path to insanity and madness.

He brought the plastic device back to his ear and growled lowly. _How dare a man such as Wayne touch his sweet Talia..._

"I'll kill him."

"_Bane, my friend, be reasonable. It's not like you haven't slept with that Fiona girl."_

Bane snarled, "Talia-"

"_I do not like her. She isn't good for you. You need someone better."_

"I'd watch yourself, Talia, dear. After all, you did sleep with Bruce Wayne. Perhaps you should go to a doctor? No doubt he's crawling with diseases."

On the other end, Bane heard a growl, causing him to chuckle. "He will enjoy his stay here, Talia. I promise. And as for Fiona? Keep her out of this."

"_She's a whore and a_-"

Quickly pressing the 'END' button, the masked man placed the phone into his pocket and sighed. The night had been a restless one, with his little... _excursion _interrupting the middle of it. Not to say he minded. Fiona had been wonderful, just as he expected. But, it was the lingering warmth after the intercourse that left him worried and frightened. Even with his mask secured tightly, he felt vulnerable now.

He was terrified about that one word...

**Love**.

He scowled. The mere thought of it was disgusting. He had met men that fell from their thrones for that word. Many died for it. Bane didn't like to think of it as anything but a word, as if it was a trifle.

But, it was when he felt the grip of her hand in his and her breath on him that he realized it was no longer just a word. It was a thing now, something he was running from, faster than ever. He hoped Fiona didn't have the same reaction to the night of merriments. He knew that would be difficult to overcome. Breaking the skinny woman's heart wasn't his goal.

An ache arose in his chest when he thought about her waking up alone.

He had wanted to stay. Every fiber in his being yearned to stay and keep her warm and snug, but his brain screamed otherwise, reminding him that he had plans and those plans were not to be stopped by a simple emotion-

Bane straightened his shoulders as someone coughed behind him.

"Sir?"

"Yes?"

"The ropes are ready."

"Ahh. Yes. Well, let us welcome Mr. Wayne to his new home."

* * *

She skidded down the hall, grasping her robes as coverage. Fiona groaned as she searched her room for decent clothes to put on.

The house they had stayed at was silent, and the young woman was beginning to think Bane left her back, not caring to bring her along any further.

Fiona hopped through the home, grasping her backpack with one hand and tugging her jeans over her hips with the other. The woman tugged a tea shirt over her bra, quickly heaving the heavy vest over it. She scowled, scouring the room for her boots.

The night before had left her in a pretty shitty state.

Hickeys, large and purple, dotted her neck and collarbone. They looked menacing enough, but Fiona realized as she dressed, the rest of her body was much worse. Bane had hands made for breaking, not loving. It was very apparent from the amount of bruises along her hips. Fiona didn't mind though. It was much better than having bruises from abuse.

The bruises posed as a trophy of a battle won. A lovely, hot, aggressive battle which ended in the sudden loss of the enemy the morning after...

Fiona tugged her band back with an angry groan, still fuming from the disappearance of Bane.

"He left," she spoke to herself, tugging her combat boots on violently. "Just up and left."

She crossed the room to grab her scarf, tying it around her neck. Her thoughts were stuck upon Bane when the horn of a rather beat up van broke the deserts air.

Fiona squinted, her brow furrowing as she leaned out the window.

"Son of a bitch... Hold on!"

Part of her was relieved that Bane hadn't forgotten about her.

Her movements were even more rushed as she grasped her pack and the gun resting on the bed before jumping down the stairs. Fiona hurried out the door, kicking the sand as she jogged to the van. The white door swung open to the carved out back, full of Bane's men.

"Jesus, Fiona. Could you have taken any longer?" A voice piped up from the front of the van. She recognized it to be her Middle Eastern friend, Bane's second-in-command.

"Sorry, Barsad."

The driver scoffed and as soon as the door shut, the gas was put on, making the automobile jerked violently forward into the desert.

* * *

"So this is The Pit?"

As she looked down, she could feel her stomach drop. Heights had never been her favorite thing, and the same thing went for swimming. It was just something she couldn't handle too much of, and as Fiona looked down the side of the prison, she felt fear grip her.

"Yes. About 85 feet down. Only the worst have been put here."

"Bane grew up here?"

"Yes."

"What did he do?"

Barsad sighed, rolling his eyes before tugging the rope on her waist tighter. "Stop asking questions and get down there. Bane wants to speak with you."

Fiona only nodded as Barsad helped her to the side, ushering her downwards. Gripping the side of the wall, Fiona paled, feeling the rope jerk. Slowly she was lowered, each jerk causing her to tighten her grip on the rope. When her boots met the sandy ground of the prison floor, she almost cried out in joy, giving Barsad a nod and unhooking herself from the strap.

Her gun was swung over her shoulder immediately, falling across her stomach in a threatening manner. The prison was quiet and reeked with the stench of death and sorrow. Fiona found herself scowling harshly as she passed an old inmate who winked at her.

She hurried up the steps to where Bane's towering form stood, lurking over Wayne's new cell. She almost laughed. The man she had feared for so long, The Batman, was now crying out and squirming in a pitiful manner. Her slender fingers slipped through the bars as she watched him writhe under the elder man's grip, a smile breaking across her face.

The weight of Bane's hand was against her shoulder, causing her to freeze. She broke away from the metal cage, turning to him.

"You left."

"I had other duties."

Fiona scowled again.

"Did I do that?"

His fingers gently brushed against her neck in a careful manner, as if he was scared to hurt her. She laughed.

"Yeah. I've got a lot of them."

He nodded, his eyes softening slightly. "Come with me."

Fiona did as she was told, following the large masked man to the corner of the prison. He stopped in front of the cell, and Fiona noted it was empty. Bane jiggled the handle, causing it to slide open nicely. He waved her forward, pointing to the cot.

"This was mine."

"This was your cell?"

He only nodded.

Her eyes grew wide, attempting to take in every single detail. She sauntered over to the cement wall at the end of the cell, frowning. Her fingers grazed against a chalk drawing of a stick person holding onto a smaller stick person.

"What's this?"

"A memory from long, long, long ago."

"Who drew it?"

"An beam of light in the dark."

Fiona frowned.

"Who are you?"

Bane laughed. "I am... a man of many faces. Of power, of strength, of danger."

"Who is Talia?"

That question came straight out of the blue, causing Bane's eyes to narrow at her figure as she leaned against the cell's bars. He frowned gently, gripping his coat's pockets.

"How do you-"

"You speak in your sleep."

"You..."

"_You_ were crushing me in your arms."

Bane laughed, his fingers finding the wall beside her head in a quick manner. "I apologize. You seemed cold."

"I was. This morning, too."

"You're not going to let that go, are you, Fiona dear?"

"Nope."

"I thought so," he mustered, "It wasn't my intention to leave you like that..."

Her eyes softened and she laughed. "I've never been... That's never..."

"Because you're wonderful."

Fiona gaped a bit, swallowing. Bane only nodded.

"Anyways, who is Talia? You never answered me," Fiona frowned, pushing off the wall and brushing past him, propping herself up on the cot. "Tell me who you are."

Bane sighed. "Not here. Not now. Maybe another time. This is only a bit of me I will allow you to see. For now, this is all you get."

"For now."

"Yes."

Fiona rolled her eyes.

Bane smirked.

* * *

**Favourite ice cream flavor? I've been living off of cake batter ice cream the past week... Sorry, not sorry.**


	21. Promoted

**A/N: I'm sorry this is so short. There's a lot of stuff going on here, and I apologize. Sort of a bridge of feels for Bane and Fiona. New picture for the story! A little manip I did! ****Anyways, I'm pooped. ecto1B and I had a bit of writing session earlier in which she wrote me the most amazing little Bane/Fio oneshot involving greed and a protective Bane. That woman needs to write a book. Gosh. Maybe I'll make her publish it. That thing was beautimous... Why am I still talking? None of you read this thing anyways. xD**

* * *

**XXI.**

_The system broken, the school's closed, the prison's open. We ain't got nothing to lose, motherfucker, we rollin'._

"Did you mean what you said?"

Bane's eyes snapped up from the ledger he was examining to see Fiona, leaning against the railing tiredly. She was peering into the sewer waters below her, no doubt fear running through her mind. From his vantage point, he could see the scars on her back poke out from the leather jacket she was sporting. Bane scowled, regret surging in his veins.

The past few days had been an exodus of all normal emotions Bane was used to. He _trying_ to convince himself that Fiona was becoming a pet, not a lover. Their quarrels were not displays of affection, but demonstrations of companionship. He was trying to convince himself that she was a criminal, not a wonderful young woman.

He had spent the whole plane ride back to the United States trying to convince himself it was just the Oxytocin talking, and not his emotions. Oxytocin was responsible for many things, love being one of them. Sexual intercourse was a bonding experience, but Bane was a man, and men never liked to be tied down. Though he didn't think of himself as a normal man, he figured he was in this aspect, but his heart ached when he thought about leaving Fiona and never seeing her again.

He was beginning to consider it was the possibility that he could have found someone to love him for who he was before the end of it all... It was a radical idea, possessed in the far recesses of his mind. It seemed to tug at his common sense, reeking of possibility.

"Did I mean, what, exactly?"

"You said I was 'wonderful'."

Bane's heart dropped. _Did I really say that? How did... I... _"Yes. I did mean it."

Fiona turned, her dark eyes watching him with such curiosity. Bane almost chuckled. It was such an ironic thing. All his life he had been searching for the light to his darkness, and finally, he settles upon an exotic creature even darker than him in so many aspects.

"Why?"

"Why are you wonderful?"

"Stop asking questions. That's my job."

Bane laughed from his position on his cot. He dropped the ledger with a slap, leaving it sprawled out on the cement by his feet. "You're _job, _my lovely dear, is to follow me into battle."

"Battle?" she snorted, "More like bed."

Her back was turned so quickly, Bane could have sworn she got whiplash. She was hunched over the railing again, a frown present on her face. That comment stinged, causing the larger man to stand slowly.

"Is... Is that what you think?"

"Wonderful, my ass."

Bane sighed. "How many women have you spotted me carting to the bedroom, Fiona?"

Fiona's eyes darted across his masked face, his fingers gripping the railing with white knuckles. "None."

"None...?"

"None, sir."

Bane nodded, his hands tugging at his shirt's collar. "And how many stories have you heard about me sleeping with women?"

"None, sir."

"Let it be known that I did not simply bed you for the pleasure of leaving your small frame, alone, in a large bed the next morning," he voice was heavy with something he couldn't place, "I did it because..."

bane clipped his sentence short, shoulders heavy. He scowled, returning to his cot.

"Because...?" Fiona asked quietly.

His fingers laced themselves around and near the tubes of his mask. "I do not know, Fiona."

It took her a moment, but after examining his hunched figure for a few seconds, she spoke. "Yes, you do."

His brow rose. "Oh, do I?"

"You won't say it. Men don't like to say it. A man like _you _wouldn't like to say it," her tone was low as she rocked on her heels, spitting over the railing as far as she could.

"You speak of love like it's a disease."

She snorted. "It kills."

"That is does. You do not seem the kind of person to fall victim to it, though, Fiona. You're smarter than that."

"I'm a girl. Love has always been that thing you dream of... Princess and dresses and fairies... It's all bullshit. Love is just good sex."

"Are you suggesting I simply like our sex?" Bane laughed, amused.

She was silent.

He reclined slightly, watching the woman with curiosity. "So, if it is love, then what do I do?"

"Love? With me? Never. That doesn't happen. I'm the kind of chick guys like to bang and leave to rot," she shrugged, "That's how it's always been. I suggest you go see a doctor. Maybe Pavel can help. After all, it is a _disease._"

"... Suppose I want this disease?"

"Oh?" Her tone was mocking of his own, her expression laced with amusement, "You know, love is a lot like an STD..."

Bane shook his head, rolling his grey eyes at the woman's pessimistic attitude. Normally, she was much cheery. Easier to speak with. He knew there was only one way to get her to stop with the banter.

He thought of all the other times he had said those three words, realizing that the majority were directed towards a young Talia, eager to make him smile. He used to utter it to her when they slept in The Pit, his arms wrapped tightly around her, as if he was fighting off the dark with his small bundle of light. Now that he was older... There hadn't been many places for him to say it... No one had ever stuck around long enough... It was a deep gash to open, but, he figured, he really didn't have anything to lose.

He pushed aside the fears and worry pulling at his chest and let the words come.

"I..."

And the confidence was gone.

"I want to promote you. You are being promoted to stand alongside Barsad in the rankings. You are to shadow me wherever we go."

She was silent, her eyes widening. "I wasn't expecting that..."

Bane stood. "Speak with Barsad. In two hours we leave for Wayne Enterprises."

He left her hanging onto the railing, his mind screaming at him.

_You stupid fuck._

* * *

**Do you like Bane/Talia? **

**_i do because its adorable and amazing i mean what who said that_**


	22. Seven Devils All Around You

**A/N: Lots of Fio/Bane bonding in this one. I hope you guys like it! Also, there is a story I would _really like _all of you to check out. It's called _Mercenary_ by PoisonousAngel. It's one of the best Bane/OC story I've read on this site, and the plot is amazing. Please check it out! Oh! And the song for this chapter is Seven Devils by Florence + the Machine. I love Flo. She's amazing. I can't wait to see her in concert this September.**

**Anyways, have fun! Reviews are really appreciated.**

* * *

**XXII.**

_Holy water can't help me now, a thousand armies couldn't keep me out. I don't want your money, I don't want your crown. See I have to tell you, I've come to burn your kingdom down._

That night's sleep was a restless one. Fiona found herself tossing and turning, the day's events replaying and replaying in her mind. She scowled at the thought of being ranked up. The looming sense of responsibility reeked of mistakes to be made, something that made the skinny woman squirm.

Fiona fell asleep, scared and anxious for tomorrow's history making events.

She awoke the next morning to the smell of food, wafting in through the halls of the sewers, an unfamiliar but welcoming thing. It was like someone had taken their time in cooking pancakes and eggs, letting the smell seep into the walls of the sewers. Suddenly, there was a knock at her door.

Fiona was silent for a moment, fixing her hair which stuck up in odd places. "Er, come in?"

Bane quickly shuffled in, a small plate in his hand. On it rested two plain pancakes and a pile of eggs. The masked man stood silently, eyeing the woman as she grinned ear to ear.

"You need to eat. You have a big day ahead of you."

Fiona smirked, falling out of the cot and pulling herself onto her feet. She stretched, her spine making clicking noises that were usual to her morning stretches. Groaning as her feet touched the damp and freezing ground, she yanked her heavy and dirty sweatshirt closer. She scowled as her socks seeped into a puddle of water, dampening the heavy material.

She had grown accustomed to sleeping in as many layers as she could as the winter began to stalk in. Her standard wool blanket was a bit shabby, but with the right clothing, it did the job.

As she stood to full height, Bane's eyes darted across her body. "You slept in that?"

"My quarters aren't as warm and cozy as yours, _dear."_

He chuckled, handing her the plate and the fork. "You could have said something, Fiona. I would have had Barsad give you blankets."

"I have blankets."

"More blankets, then."

She huffed, jabbing her pancake and shoveling it into her mouth quickly. Bane settled on her cot, pushing aside the one blanket she had.

"Who made these?" Fiona piped up, moaning in satisfaction, "These are amazing."

"Brooky and Meg thought it would be a good idea to treat a few of us this morning," he began, rolling her shoulders, "They stole from the local homeless shelter."

"...They stole from a homeless shelter."

Bane nodded.

Fiona snorted. She stabbed at the eggs, grinning as she ate silently. Pausing, she shuffled over to the cot and perched herself on the edge of the bed, a safe distance from the masked man. Bane sat and watched, waiting for her to finish. When she did take the last bite, Bane gingerly grabbed the plate and set it on the nightstand.

"You were briefed by Barsad?"

"Yes, sir."

Bane grew silent. "Good."

Fiona could feel his eyes on her, so she looked down, playing with a hole in her black sweatshirt. She stayed silent, wishing for the looming anxiety to dissipate.

"You are not good at handling weapons." he spoke. She frowned.

"I know."

"Nor are you good at hand to hand combat."

"I know."

"You're not very smart, having dropped out of high school."

"Is this supposed to be a pep talk or-"

Bane gently squeezed her forearm, making her stop fiddling with the hole in the cloth. "I should have killed you that night."

Her heart dropped. So this was it. This was how it was going to be? She hadn't even done anything wrong, and now here he was, telling her the one thing she had avoided during her time in this army.

"Fiona," Bane spoke sharply, snapping the female out of her trance. She looked like a deer in headlights, "You're fretting. That wasn't what I wished to gain from this conversation."

"Y-You just said..."

His glare cut her off.

"You have innocence in you, Mary."

She scowled and look to the ground when he used her real name. "Innocence? Yeah. Alright."

His hand caught her face, squeezing hard enough to leave bruises. She whimpered at the touch as he raised her head to look at the cement ceiling. He was looking at her bruises from their last one on one session. His grip loosened dramatically.

"I'm sorry."

She gaped.

"I never meant to leave those..."

Her face flustered as his fingers touched them gently. "It's alright. I've been through worse."

Bane simply frowned, dropping her head. "Sometimes I wish I possessed different hands. Ones meant for things other than destruction," his eyes softened, "I have never been able to be gentle. It was never possible..."

"Everyone can be gentle, Bane."

"Not myself. I was made in that prison. The one I brought you to. I was sent to live out my father's sentence. He had murdered a family and then killed himself, leaving the sentence upon me. I was only 10 years old when they lowered me down. I was large for my age, strong to. I quickly made a reputation for myself."

"Why are you-"

He hushed her, grasping her hand. "I want to tell you. Someone needs to know before the end takes me. Perhaps you can write my biography. I have seen your writing in that book you keep."

"You read that? In Wuthering Heights?"

"How could I not? It was beautiful, much like you."

She ducked her head down.

"One day, in the prison, a woman was lowered down. She was almost unreal, a figment of our petty imaginations. I was 24 at the time, a young man in an old place. I longed for something different. When the woman was lowered down, it all changed. Men fought to touch the princess, to harm the princess and take the princesses innocence."

"Why was a princess down there?" she asked quietly, crossing her legs indian style.

Bane's eyes frowned. "She was a warlord's daughter. She had fallen in love with a mercenary and become pregnant. While she was bearing the child, her father banished her lover and sent her to the Pit."

Fiona scowled.

"She gave birth down there. One day, we woke to a child's screams. We were told it was a _he_... for years we believed it. Until one day, the princess' cell was left unlocked. The inmates rushed in. I followed. But I did not follow to rape or kill the princess. I followed to save the child."

Fiona smiled softly, squeezing his arm. Bane looked up, startled by the fondness in her eyes.

"I took him in. But soon, I learned it was a she. I cared for her with every fiber of my being. I fed her, played with her, read with her, and I kept her warm at night. She was my light in the dark, really. My ray of sunshine in the gloomy prison."

"She was your innocence."

Bane nodded, causing Fiona to frown. "I'm not innocent, Bane."

"I know. But you did not commit these crimes to do bad. You committed them to survive."

"That's one way to look at it..."

Bane growled quietly causing Fiona to freeze as his arm snaked around her waist, hoisting her up and onto his chest as he laid back on the cot. She swallowed, her lithe form almost swallowed up by his large one. Aside from fearing being crushed, Fiona suddenly found warmth and comfort, smiling into his shirt's fabric.

"You're my innocence. That girl has grown up, lost all of hers. You're a refined type. Darker, but pure all the same."

"Pure?"

"That is what I said, yes."

"No one's ever said that to me."

"Good."

Silence grew between them. Not awkward, but a comforting silence, like all the words had been spoke that needed to be said. Fiona suddenly squirmed.

"You're crushing me."

"My apologies."

Her hips rolled back, allowing both of her legs to drape across his stomach. She shifted, tucking her arms into her chest and allowing him to hold her gingerly, suddenly wary of how tight he grasped her.

"Look. You're being gentle."

"I do not want to hurt you, that's why."

Fiona made a gurgling noise as his fingers met her hips, messaging them. This excited a chuckle out of him. Her head snapped upward.

"Did I make you laugh?"

Bane's brows furrowed. Her smile fell.

"You never laugh because something's funny. You always laugh because something's either stupid or odd or ridiculous."

"You seem to know these circumstances quite well."

Her lips pursed and she frowned. _He was right. _Silence fell over them again, more awkward than before. Fiona wiggled, sighing gently.

"You are aware I cannot get you pregnant?"

"Hm?" _Where the fuck did that come from?_

"We didn't use protection that night."

"...Oh. I hadn't even..."

"Too caught up in the moment, dear?"

"Oh shut up."

Later that day, Barsad was quick to go over the situation once more and begin re-briefing her, all while pointing and jabbing at schematics and such. The harsh light swung overhead as the duo eyed the plans. Well, mainly Barsad eyed them. Fiona just nodded, finding all of this new information to be quite overwhelming. She hunched over the table as Barsad showed a map of the city's streets, dotted with red markers, signals of planted explosives.

When Barsad spoke of the Rogues' game, the mercenary spoke as if it was a history making moment, his eyes lit up with happiness and devotion.

"You got all that?"

"This is genius..." Fiona breathed, "Who thought this up?"

"Bane and Talia, mostly. Some input from the rest of, but very little."

"Talia?" Fiona's brow knitted together. _There was that name again._

"Miranda Tate. You've seen here here, no doubt. The small, dark, beautiful woman that Bane worships."

"Worships...?"

"They are very close, Skinny," Barsad rolled up the map before stuffing it into his backpack, "Very dangerous together as well."

"Oh," Fiona made a face.

"Come on. Let's go. Bane wants us to meet him at Wayne Enterprises in 15 minutes. We should get going," he quipped, eyeing his watch and motioning to her, "Grab a few men and let's go."

"Wait, Wayne Enterprises? I thought we were going to the Rogues' game?"

"That's later. Bane needs help with something right now."

Fiona said nothing else, before weaseling her backpack on and straightening her shoulders. The weight of ammunition and other necessities made her back ache slightly, but the woman ignored it. Motioning to three men who were idling by the stairs, she called out to them.

"You three. With me."

The flights of stairs leading to the surface were no longer a killer, since Fiona had made the trek many times by now. Her burning calf muscles no longer bugged her, and either did the musty reek of wet and coldness.

When they made it outside, Fiona felt the sun beat down on her fair skin, a threat of a sunburn looming over her. She ignored the rays, climbing into the hatchback van provided by Barsad. She shuffled in and sat in the back with the men, their eyes peering over her with every waking moment.

She didn't like it, but she said nothing.

Bane must have said something, done something or proven something to the men, since it had been a while since Riot first shoved her around in her first days in Bane's force. Perhaps they saw her as his property?

The van started up, and they were off. Estimated time of the drive was around 10 minutes. That gave her plenty of time to think.

The two weeks following the Pit had been different from any other of the weeks she had spent in Bane's cluster of men and women. Not many talked to her, and if they did, it was to ask where to find something. Bane, though, had spoken with her the most. After she helped him with his mask, they would sit and talk. It was nice, but strict, since Bane didn't like to delve into personal things.

She still hadn't made him laugh. It was something she wanted. She yearned to hear the simple laugh. Not a pity chuckle, or a scoff directed at her stupidity. She wanted to hear a genuinely content laugh.

She hadn't heard one in a long while.

Suddenly Fiona froze and began to wonder if he was thinking about her. She wondered if he thought about their night in bed at all, or if that was a simple fulfillment of pleasure. Fiona had liked it. It was wonderful. Hell, she wished it could happen again. But, there was always the fact that Bane showed no outward emotion towards her.

Compassion was only received when it was given, and Fiona was not a very compassionate person. So, depressingly enough, she wasn't given kisses or hugs, though she highly doubted Bane ever gave those, even to lovers. His display of compassion was a tender look or a soft touch. That was it. He didn't need words or too much physical contact. But today... That was wonderful. Amazing. Something she hadn't been given in a long time.

It had ended with him departing slowly, wishing he could stay.

Fiona actually doubted that. He probably had to go see _Talia._

She scowled.

_Fucking Talia._

* * *

**Favourite Batman movie out of the trilogy? I prefer The Dark Knight. Heath Ledger's performance was the most mind blowing thing ever.**


	23. Folsom Prison Blue

**A/N: So, basically, in my timeline, the bomb is armed and then three days later the football game takes place. Fio's arrest is the second day after the bomb is armed while the police are still in the city and not trapped in the sewers. **

**I'm sorry for such the long wait. School has started and life is starting to kick into 'oh fuck' mode. I'll hopefully crank out more later since the nasty parts of this story are starting to kick up. :D Anyways, a bit of a disclaimer before you enjoy.**

**The following chapter has mature language and sexual stuff. Some gore, too.**

* * *

**XXIII.**

_And I ain't seen the sunshine since I don't know when, I'm stuck in Folsom prison, and time keeps draggin' on__..._

Fiona paced in the small 5 by 8 foot cell, his arms crossed and head down. The unflattering orange jumpsuit was gangly and sagged off of her body. The auburn haired woman scowled at the hoots of the men across the prison block, ignoring the boisterous catcalls.

Earlier that morning, she had puked again, just like the last 4 days she had been stuck in this cell. The sickly sweet stench of stomach acid and cafeteria food made her stomach gurgle, and not in the pleasant way.

8 goddamn years for bank robbery and aggravated assault.

Fiona couldn't believe that fucking cop caught _her, _out of all of Bane's men.

The past 48 hours, including the half assed decision made by the DA to put her in here was something of a blur in her head, but as she nestled into the bottom bunk of her cell at Blackgate, she mulled it all over.

* * *

It all started with Barsad taking her to Wayne Enterprises. The ride over had gone smoothly, but when Fiona arrived, the real trouble started. When there, she had followed Bane's orders, rigging explosives and timers and other assorted goodies.

When Bane sauntered down into the basement of the building, the woman's heart broke.

There was Talia, pretty as a fucking picture, looking all distressed. Fio could feel her temperature rise. Beside her, Meg and Brooky nudged her, trying to wipe the look of pure disgust off her face.

She let it stay, staining her facial features as Bane approached.

Something in his eyes told her he knew, while part of him chose to ignore it.

"Why don't we show our guests the main attraction, yes?"

The henchies huddled far from the explosives before Barsad let a battlecry echo through the cement basement.

"Fire in the hole!"

His thumb applied a gentle pressure to the red tigger and within a millisecond, a deafening explosion rocked the walls and a gaping opening was revealed. An approving look was given by Bane, but Fiona ignored it, her dour expression reeking of hatred and curiosity.

She hadn't been told about this part of the plan. Not until three minutes ago, when even she didn't know what was behind the cement wall. Only Barsad knew, and even he wasn't about to give up that information to her. When her eyes met the metal orb in the middle of that room, she knew something was wrong.

"What the hell...?" she uttered, her eyes flashing to Bane's. They spoke of nothing but pride, and as Fiona watched, she thought she saw _Miranda_'s lips curl into a smile.

_What the hell kind of name was Miranda anyways. Preppy as fuck, if you ask me. Honestly, if that's what Bane wants in a girl... _

The metal orb was some source of clean energy. That's all Fiona picked out from the conversations going on behind her. She and the other men stalked closer and closer, their eyes trying to take in every detail.

_This is Gotham's liberation? Saving the environment?_

Suddenly, an older gentleman was called to the podium where Bane pointed to the computer pad. He refused and Fiona winced. Bane wouldn't have anything like that. Suddenly, though, Miranda stepped forward, her face full of terror.

"They're going to kill you if you don't, Lucius. We should just give them what they want."

_Backstabbing, no good, lying ass, pretty bitch._

The energy source was activated. Now Bane called someone forward Fiona had forgotten about.

Dr. Pavel.

...

It suddenly all clicked.

Her eyes were frantic.

Dr. Pavel, _Nuclear Physicist._

Bane was going to blow up the city.

That was the liberation.

"Shit."

* * *

That night, when the lurked at Wayne Enterprises to watch their hostages, Fiona ventured to Bane's room.

Before knocking on the conference room's door, she scowled and took a deep breath. Her heart was pounding a mile a minute and Fiona knew that she was probably going to die with this confrontation.

It was better than in a nuclear blast.

She rapped her knuckles on the door.

"Come in."

Fiona opened the door slowly, closing it with ease. Bane was settled in a leather chair, facing a large glass window overlooking the city. It was late, so the lights from buildings and homes shone like the stars they couldn't see. Bane turned quickly, his fingers looped in the collar of his vest and his black sleeves rolled up tightly. His arms flexed as he sat up straight, and Fiona's heart jumped into her throat.

"Sir."

His scowl was apparent though she couldn't see his mouth.

"You never call me sir."

"Only when you make me."

"You're awfully serious this evening, dear."

Fiona was silent. Her eyes wandered around the room before settling on a watercolor landscape hanging on the far wall. "If I speak my mind, you won't kill me until I'm done, right?"

His eyes grew cold. "Go on. I'll make that decision when I choose."

Fiona nodded, her padded footsteps muffled by the carpet. "I want to leave. I didn't want this. You're going to blow up my city. Wipe it out."

Her eyes stayed trained on the painting.

"Your city?"

"My home. This city. It's mine and many others' too, you know."

"This is not a home, it's a-"

"It's _my home,_" Fiona's tone was sharp, and she didn't regret it, "I didn't choose for it to be. It just is."

Bane's knuckles grew white.

"I want to leave your army. I don't want any part in this," her gaze snapped back to the watercolor, tracing the soft blue pond with her eyes, "This wasn't what I wanted."

"What did you want?"

"Money. _A job_. I needed to support my roommate and I. I haven't gotten paid in months. I haven't seen my roommate in months."

Bane was silent.

"I didn't want any of this fucking liberation bullshit, you know. I didn't want any of this romantic crap. I didn't want anything but _money_, sir. That's still why I'm here. You expect me to love a man like you when I can't even speak my goddamn mind without fear for my fucking life," Fiona's tone seethed. "Don't even get me started on _Talia_."

She hadn't even heard him behind herself. She only felt the sharp pain of glass splintering into her forehead as she was unceremoniously slammed into the watercolor painting. She moaned, clutching her face. She was frantic, screaming and kicking as Bane's hands grabbed at her arms, hauling her to her feet before slamming her onto the conference table.

Her head and back whipped against the table, clicking loudly as the threat of darkness loomed. Her face stung and warm liquid seemed to drizzle down her neck like warm, sticky, sweat.

Bane's hand clamped onto her throat and dragged her off the table, her back meeting the glass of the window.

"You'll never learn."

* * *

The pounding sensation behind her eyes woke her up along with the nipping chill on her finger tips. She groaned, attempting to roll over.

She found two muscular arms in her way.

Fiona tried to wiggle from the hold, but gasped in pain as her back stretched the wrong way. She screeched loudly, a strangled sob escaping her mouth.

"You mustn't move like that. I fear one of your vertebrate is shattered."

It was Bane.

She screamed. "Let go of me! Get off! Leave me alone!_ I hate you_!"

He only held tighter, his bare lips grazing against her bandaged forehead. Fiona sobbed, pushing him away, her fingers scraping at his bare chest. Bane only held on, tugging the wool blanket over her shoulders and waiting for her to calm down.

His voice was hoarse and barely audible. "I'm sorry."

"N-No you're not."

"If I was not, would I have brought you back here to fix you?"

She was in his cot back in the sewers.

"Y-You always hurt me..."

"You always make me angry, my dear."

Her face was hot with angry tears and angry spit, but as her breaths stopped being so sporadic, she found comfort in the warmth of his body. His nose brushed against her collarbone as she gently rolled over to face the wall. Bane scowled. His arms snaked around her bare waist, pulling her into his chest and hiding his face in her shoulder.

"I am sorry, Fiona."

She stayed silent.

"This has been my job ever since I first came to Gotham."

Fiona scowled. "You could have told me."

Bane's scarred lips suckled a spot below her ear gently, causing goosebumps to erupt on her skin. "You would have run off."

"I would have. But now I can't."

He nipped, causing her to moan quietly. She stifled it with her hand, biting her tongue when he chuckled. His hands removed themselves from her abdomen and instead, lingered on his back.

"I'm going to press. Tell me which hurts."

She waited. Shooting pain clouded her mind when he reached the top of her spine. She arched her back, crying out. Bane didn't retract his fingers, instead he continued to feel the vertebrate.

"S-Stop."

"Shh. Breath, love. I am feeling to see if it's shattered," he placed a comforting kiss on her shoulder before massaging.

The words and actions of Bane were odd. Unlike himself. He was never as compassionate as this. Hours ago he had attacked her once more, this time resulting in bad breakage. Fiona wished to hate him, but as he mumbled into her hair and held her close she realized something.

He was scared.

He knew she was going to try and leave.

"Do you love me?"

He remained silent, but Fiona could feel his fingers twitch on her back.

She took it as a yes.

"You said you only took this job for money."

"I was being honest."

"Do you still require money?"

"I always do, Bane."

He nodded. "When we're done, you may go out. Take a few men. Gotham Fidelity Bank seems to have an influx of customers these past few days."

"'When we're done' what?"

Bane was above her now, hovering above her face before she was caught in a slow kiss. Her back arched and the pain was ignored, pleasure replacing the shooting stings. Bane's fingers propped her back up, his lips touching her bare chest and stomach eagerly.

"I want to love you, Fiona."

"I'm a-alright with that." Her fingers squeezed his bulky hips, exciting a moan against her throat. Bane only rolled over, propping her up on his waist.

"Say my name."

She silenced him, her nails grazing his shoulders.

"I'll scream it."

* * *

The bank heist was fucked up pretty bad.

It was a combined effort, Fiona thought.

How was she supposed to know that three off-duty cops would be there?

How was she supposed to know not to pistol whip one of them?

John Blake, as his name tag read, was the one to bag her. He had tackled her on the streets before cuffing her. Fiona got a good kick at his shins in before being tugged away to a cruiser.

_Whoops._

The DA in a 10 minute court session deemed her ill-fit for trial and shipped her off to Blackgate, the one prison in the city. It was a shitty, corrupt action, one that made the criminal's blood boil.

And here she was, lazing in this damned cell being fed mystery meat and carrots everyday.

Two days ago, Bane had crashed the Gotham Rogues game, and though Fiona didn't see the newsreels, she heard about it from the guards whispers and hushed voices of the inmates. All of the cops in the city were trapped, leaving free reign for the city.

Everyone was probably having a field day, and though

Fiona wondered if Bane even knew she was gone. Part of her screamed 'of course', while the other screamed 'no'.

Fiona had a lot of time to think.

More than usual.

Too much.

She hated it.

Her own thoughts screamed at her, telling her to flee and panic and run. She knew she should have to. But, she thought, Bane loved her. He had said it.

But Bane was going to blow up the city.

Maybe...

She could foil his plans. Stop the nuclear death aspect of the city. Sell it off like she knew nothing about it to Bane.

She needed to find the last cops in this city and she needed to rat on her boss.

So, Fiona's mind went into overdrive.

_She needed Selina's help._

"Fuck."


	24. Mommy

**A/N: Oh my goodness, my precious babies.**

**I am so sorry.**

**I can't even tell you how much has happened in the past few months. School has been a pain, and my Fiona muse died. But, tonight, on this merry feastful holiday, I had my muse reignited by my cousin of the age of 3 who insisted in playing Batman with me. So, to little Liam, I dedicate this chapter. I cannot promise lots of chapters soon, but I promise I will finish this story. So, please stick with me. This chapter's song is _Off to the Races _by Lana Del Rey. I love this song, and think it applies wonderfully to Fio and Bane.**

**If you're still with Fiona and Bane, thank you. I thankful for all of you who constantly push me to be my best and write more. Reviews are love.**

* * *

**XXIV.**

_My old man is a bad man, but I can't deny the way he holds my hand. And he grabs me, he has me by my heart._

He had been pacing for the past forty-three minutes.

From one end of the bare, concrete room the other.

His head was tucked downward and the only sound to fill the room was the soft clap of boots on damp cement. A tightness had crept into his chest, it's inception being Barsad returning with no Fiona after the bank heist about 3 weeks ago.

For three weeks, the man had been without his compass, wandering in the dark and fearing for the worst. His North Star was gone, and without her, he felt confused.

_No Fiona._

Bane's calloused hands reached upwards to his mask, thoughtfully fiddling with the tubes there. A habit. There was a knock on the door.

"Come in."

Barsad's scowling face appeared in the doorway. His knuckles were white, and the bags under his second-in-command's eyes were quite noticeable.

"Nothing, sir."

"She has to be somewhere, Barsad. _Find her_," Bane sighed, "Are we prepared for Blackgate?"

"Should be sir. We have tumblers set and fueled. Men are prepped for tomorrow afternoon."

Bane only nodded, and Barsad slipped out as quietly as he had come.

From his right, a stoic woman spoke up, her voice laced with scorn. "Perhaps dear little Fio fled from your grip."

"_Talia,_" Bane's voice was low. He glanced toward the staple of feminine beauty, his eyes flickering. "Please, little one. Do not anger me. Now is not the time."

"I just do not understand why you fret so fearfully over the girl. She admitted she did not want to be here. She is not any value to our plan." Talia's snickering was hushed when Bane's head reared and flew to her.

"Do not speak of her that way."

"Tell me, friend. Have you gone soft for that woman?" her soft voice was low and hushed, as if she was speaking to a child. "I thought you loved me-"

"I do," Bane snipped, "Not as I love her, little one."

Talia's eyes grew wide and she leaned back, eyeing the mammoth of a man. "So, you do have feelings for the damn quim."

Bane could feel his teeth grit. "Careful of your words, Talia. You forget who you are speaking to."

"We have a plan, Bane."

"I am aware."

"Do not let that woman get in the way," Talia spoke before standing to full height. "Or there will be repercussions."

He remained silent as she stalked out, and the second she did, his hands flew to the nearest object and he hurled it across the room. In a rustle, the blue binded book flew into the wall and slid downwards with a clatter.

On the carpet, Fiona's copy of _Wuthering Heights_ sat, torn and tattered.

* * *

Prison life was tiring.

And by tiring, Fiona meant that she was always sleeping.

There was simply nothing else to do, beside wallow in sickness and the violent screams of the inmates around her. No books. No paper. Nothing. She spent her day's fretting that her jumpsuit was far too big and far too orange for her liking. _And _the bed was not soft, and the sheets were most definitely not cotton. The drug dealer was convinced they were made from the hair of old inmates.

_Sure feels like it._

But, as the woman rolled out of bed and dashed to the cell's toilet, she could feel her stomach lurch. Bile rose in her throat and she gagged, paling as the vomit heaved her body, and her stomach's muscles began to feel the wear and tear of morning sickness.

The guard by her cell tsked, only before clanging his baton on the door and waving his arm down the hall to the other guard, who promptly pressed a button allowing the cell door to slide open.

Fiona continued to gag, and she sputtered a cough, only before a warm hand came down on her shoulder.

"C'mon Woods. Up you go. Gunna go see the Doc. You gotta stop this," the guard muttered just as he had the previous morning.

This would be her third trip to the prison's medical facility that week.

Staggering to her feet, the auburn haired woman nodded and wiped at her chin, her nostrils flaring at the wretched stench vomit that seemed to follow her everywhere. Quickly, her hands were cuffed and her cell door was shut.

In a matter of minutes she was seated in front of Doctor James Falsworth.

Her mind seemed to drift easier than usual, and Fiona simply sighed. She missed Bane. She missed being held and hit and yelled at by the man. Hell, the ache in her back made her happy. It warmed her. Reminded her of Bane. But, Fiona scowled. She wasn't going back. Not to him. Not to the man who going to ruin it all. Everything she had ever had was in this city and she was not going to let anyone destroy that.

"Fiona."

The snapping of fingers caught her off guard.

"You've been drinking fluids?"

"Yes."

"Eating properly?"

"As properly as I can in prison, Doc."

"Alright. Take this, this too," Falsworth handed her a box of some sort and a cup. "We're going to get to the bottom of this."

Fiona looked down at her palm and paled. A cup, for a drug test, and a simple one-step pregnancy test. The woman swallowed.

"Off you go. C'mon. I haven't got all day."

The same guard who escorted her in led her to the bathroom and shut the door behind her. Sure enough, in the small 6 foot by 6 foot room, Fiona felt her fears come crashing down. The cup, half-way full was placed on the sink. The pregnancy test however rested in her palm, and her eyes pricked with hot tears.

The small, blue '+' seemed to mock her in a manner that made her blood boil.

She was pregnant.

She was going to be the mother of his child.

And suddenly, years of anguish and anger came crashing down on her, and Fiona cried. Hot spit and animal noises escaped her mouth as sickly sweet tear dampened flushed cheeks. Her hands shook her fear, and she felt her heart break.

Hate pumped through her veins.

He had ruined it all.

Ruined _her._

_So Fiona planned to do the same to him._

* * *

Selina Kyle had spotted her earlier that morning being escorted from her cell.

And now, in the open cafeteria, Fiona seemed oblivious. Her head was bowed in a mournful manner, and her eyes were red. Yet, her movements were aggressive. Angry. The violent stabbing of the mystery meat made Selina question her move.

Did she know about Mag? How her roommate had overdosed?

Selina only knew she had made a smart move. Successfully avoiding any trouble, the woman had been moved into grade 2 lunch, one set aside for the more... _peaceful _inmates. And now, Selina could make her move and start the plan to get out.

Slowly, as not to attract attention, Selina stealthily carried her food plate over to Fiona's table before settling in.

The redhead's eyes widened. "Selina..."

"Hey, bitch."

Fiona offered a smile, one that Selina returned.

"... Selina. I need to get out."

"Thank god I wasn't the only one needing that."

"So..."

"Soon. They'll come soon."

Fiona's brow furrowed. "How the fuck do you know that?"

"A girl _hears _things..."

* * *

And Selina had been right. In a matter of four days, the prison's gates had been blasted down by Bane's men, and Selina had skillfully led Fiona under the radar and into the streets. The drug dealer, blind to the new world that Gotham had become, stiffened as she was led into the jewel thief's lair. Holly, who she had met only once, greeted selina with a tight hug.

She led them in, and the three engaged in conversation before a comment was made about the jumpsuits. Sliding into her room, Selina motioned for Fiona to follow.

"Selina."

Ms. Kyle, who was in midst of ditching her bright orange trousers, glanced towards Fiona. She pointed to the dresser. "Change."

Fiona grumbled as she sifted through the drawers. "I need to see Mag."

Selina froze, only before standing and lowering her head. "... Fiona..."

"Selina, seriously. I need to see her. I left her alone for so long," pulling out a large, knit, pastel red sweater, Fiona tugged it over her head. Pulling on a pair of black leggings, the woman tugged her boots back on and shuffled her feet. "She's okay?"

She was rolling up her sleeves when Selina chose to drop the news.

"Mag is dead."

"..." For the second time that day, Fiona's heart lurched and beat so violently behind her breastbone, she thought she'd die.. "Wha-... What?"

"It was an overdose, Fio."

She was certain her heart was breaking. It felt as if the organ was ripping itself apart from the inside, and as Fiona swallowed, she swore someone punched her in the gut. Choking out a sob, the woman knelt down and gasped.

"N-No."

"Fiona..."

"N-No. Selina..." The woman shook her head before standing. "No."

And, in a frighted movement, she slammed the door to the apartment's bedroom and walked out. She was starting over. From here on in.

She focused on the thuds of her boots against the wooden stairs, and the sounds of laughter and cheering from the sidewalk outside as a gaggle of men shoved an elderly woman about.

Scowling fiercely, Fiona continued onto the opposite side of the street, her finger rubbing themselves against her stomach.

Fiona Woods was a mother now, and she was going to save Gotham. With or without her best friend. She was going to change. Her heart needed to rebuild itself, and just as a home does once it's burnt down, she needed to make new memories.

The chill of the air was refreshing. The city had 5 more months of this, and as Fiona meandered through the streets, she remembered one cop's name who could be some help.

That was, if he was still alive.

Little to Fiona's knowledge, Officer John Blake was _very _much alive, and _very _much in need of some help.

* * *

**How do you think John and Fio will get along?**


	25. Four Months Later

**XXV.**

_Listen to the wind blow, watch the sun rise, run in the shadows, damn your love, damn your lies._

* * *

_**Four Months Later**_

**H**e had never considered himself to be sentimental. Never. He was burly, tough, dark... He was a terrifyingly bulked monster, one who could tear down nations with his hands and rebuild it on the weakest notion of hope... So now, as he turned over the tattered copy of _Wuthering Heights_ for the sixth time that day, he felt himself growl. His fists clenched and knuckles that once caressed soft skin became as white as the snow outside.

Tugging the book open, he scoffed. "Idiotic."

Flipping to another page, he pointed at a paragraph, attempting to convince himself. "Unrealistic."

Part of him snapped as his eyes spotted her handwriting seeping from a page, scribbles overwhelming the thin parchment of the margins. "_Irrelevant_."

The book was thrown across the room, landing in a grotesque spayed position, it's wings mashed against the cement and wall, folding and ruining the words of romance and gentility and _her. _

She was gone.

She was a deserter.

She was _dead._

It was a mantra within his brain, one that he pleaded with himself to believe. One that he pleaded he would take to heart. One that he hoped would spare him the crushing ache in his chest, the ache that had taken his limbs and mind and heart; the ache that made him... _human._

He did not want to be human.

He did not want to think of Fiona Woods.

* * *

She longed to be human.

She longed to think of Bane, of his persuasion and suaveness.

But, her swelling stomach did not allow that. The bump, now visible beneath her coat after all these months, reminded her every moment of what he had done... What _she _had done. She had loved him with all her heart, loved him so much it made her ache with happiness. He had given her a gift... A child...

_What was she saying_? _A gift? No. Oh, hell no. _

It was tough.

Those first few weeks, she had been on her own... That was until she had been led into the arms of John Blake. The cop, patrolling the streets for gas, had stumbled into her and nearly shot her down. That was, until she explained how she had been _looking _for him... She had been looking for help and she wanted to help him stop Bane from burning _her _city.

She had fought for their trust. Fiona had promised and swore and fought to be helpful. She fought for them to understand why she wanted to help. She was always the grunt. The meetings with the other officers... She had been look-out. She had been one to lower food...

That was back when John and Jim didn't trust her. That was back when she didn't _look _pregnant.

When James Gordon and John Blake noticed her bump, when they had noticed she was five months pregnant, the two had finally realized why she was here. There were nights when it would be hard for them to understand how she could have ever loved a monster like that, but there were also nights when John could tell how truly upset she was. There were nights when she looked so tired of fighting that she may collapse. There were nights when she was so angry she would scream and holler and put up a fight about everything...

There were nights when John had to fetch her anything she craved or wanted.

There were nights when John wondered why he was caring for the pregnant lover of a _monster, _said pregnant lover having been a notorious drug dealer he had sought after for a small part of his career.

Her boots crunched against the ice-hardened snow of the pavement, shallow imprints pressed into the clean, white slate. Fiona mumbled something to herself, something about the damned cold, before she quickly took a turn, avoiding a group of men whooping and cheering down the street.

The sky overhead was as white and clean as the ground, and it reminds of her of some Robert Frost poem she read in the 7th grade. Licking chapped lips, the skinny woman blinked at the bustling shopping mart, green eyes narrowing as flakes clung to her thick lashes. She blinked them away, leaving icy kisses on her cheeks and brow. Stalking towards the grocery, she rubbed her hands together.

The perimeter, now that she had scouted the streets around the market, had been clear. Weaving through the lines of people, she hurried inside to the grocery and rubbed her fingers on her coat, shaking slightly as she meandered down the stairs to the basement.

She had interrupted something.

The room grew quiet and one man, a new face, scowled at her.

Foley blinked at Fiona, shooting her a disapproving look.. "Everything clear?"

She simply nodded, skulking over towards John. He gave her shoulder a quick squeeze, nodding to her before turning his attention back to the doorway. "That's Captain Mark Jones. He's one of us, Fio," he muttered before sighing slightly. "We need to show him the vantage point..."

Fiona made a face. "I am coming with you."

"Miss, I'm sorry to _interrupt, _but that won't be happening," Jones' tone was clipped, forceful... Fiona knew he was a military man just by looking at his stance, "You're clearly a bit... occupied."

The redhead scowled, narrowing her gaze at the Captain as he scrutinized her stomach.

Blake narrowed his eyes. "Gordon, you gunna tell him what's really going on here?"

"Captain, the situation is a bit more complicated than you think..." Gordon spoke softly, "This is Fiona Woods."

"You say that like it's supposed to have meaning to me," Jones scoffed.

"I worked under Bane," she mumbled, "_This_ is Bane's."

The room grew silent as her hand ghosted over the swell in her abdomen.

"You're his wife?"

"No."

Jones blinked. "How have you stayed alive this long, Ms. Woods?"

Fiona shook her head. "Some people just don't have the heart to kill a pregnant woman, Captain. Not to mention I'm surrounded by Gotham's finest."

"This vantage point you mentioned," he turned to Blake, "You'll let her come?"

"Of course," Blake nodded, "If we run into trouble, she is the reason we get out of it. Bane's men know her. They let her walk free."

She almost spoke out. Almost warned them of the bounty on her head. But, she didn't. Instead, she smiled and nodded and simply followed the men to the exchange, hating each snowflake that fell from the heavens.

* * *

"Sir?"

Bane, from his perch on his cot, glanced up. His eyes scanned the ragged and snow-kissed face of his second-in-command. Barsad, with hair that was matted to his forehead and a nose that was red as blood, breathed heavily as his shoulders sloped.

"What is it, Barsad?"

The man swallowed. "We have intel. A group of men from outside have snuck in. They are currently en-route to Miss Tate's position."

Bane gave a soft growl.

"Well, let us give them a nice warm welcome, Barsad," Bane stood full height, tugging on his coat, "Gather the men."

"Sir?"

"We will make examples of them."

"Of course, sir."

* * *

**A/N: **HELLO, MY LOVELIES. So, guess who is back for the mean time? I am! I've been re-watching TDKR because of a film studies project, so I thought '_hell, why not?'_. Here is a chapter _so many of you _have asked for. Things are coming to a tie soon... Be on the look out for new chapters! Please R&R! Oh! And the song for this chapter was picked by my lovely sister and it's by Fleetwood Mac! "The Chain" is an awesome song, so please check it out!


	26. Pocketfuls of Mumbles

**XXVI.**

_I have squandered my resistance for a pocketful of mumbles. Such are promises, all lies and jests. Still a man hears what he wants to hear and disregards the rest._

* * *

**T**he walk had been vexing to say the least. The heavy weight of her own footfalls seemed to drag her down into the snow, mimicking the weight of water in her legs. Fiona grumbled half heartedly in her stomach direction, hands protectively covering the large bump. Exhaling a bit, she hauled herself over a snowbank, squeaking as her boots caught a patch of ice.

Before she could fall far, a pair of warm hands grabbed at her back accompanied by a faint: "Woah there."

It was Captain Jones.

She tossed a thankful glance his way, swallowing her nerves and following John Blake's footsteps in the snow. The Captain coughed quietly, motioning to Fiona's swollen abdomen.

Dark eyes flicked up at his face. He opened his mouth to speak, but on words came. Stopping in her tracks, Fiona quirked a brow his way. "Something wrong, Captain Jones?"

He swallowed, shaking his head. Starting off, he caught up to Gordon. The two marched together, in step. Jones leaned over, whispering something that made Jim flinch. His eyes flicked back to Fiona, who now followed the group of officers. She waddled through the snow, hands planted on her stomach, face red from the cold and frustration of walking with such a heavy burden.

He'd be damned if she wasn't having twins.

Fiona, flustered, grumbled John's way. "Fuckin' snow."

John Blake chuckled, offering her a smile. "Y'know, I really didn't _that_ was what you would be complaining about now."

"Oh, shut up," she laughed, "The baby isn't _that _bad."

Jones spoke up from the front of the group. "... Are you happy about the pregnancy?"

There was a genuine curiosity in his voice.

"It's a damn baby, Captain," Fiona muttered, "Not the plague."

"I just thought—"

"Yeah," Fio waved him off, "S'okay. I get it. It's _his._"

Jones turned, sauntering backwards. "Did you ever consider an...?"

It was that word again. The one that Selina had brought up the first week of her pregnancy.

"Abortion?" Fiona gave a good humored laugh, "You think I'm made a' money, Jones? And, to be honest, I'd rather pass on the _coat hanger_ substitute."

Jones, in that moment, looked paler than the snow she was trudging through.

The group fell into a lulled silence, accompanied only by the crunch of snow.

The building, the vantage point was what John called it, was just up ahead. With the rumble of a tumbler, Gordon and the group split. A few ducked behind cars while Blake tugged Fiona downwards behind a car.

"Shh. Be careful. They're gunna wonder why we're here," his voice was just above a whisper. Between the blood pounding in her ears and the aching sensation in her back, Fiona almost wasn't able to formulate a response.

As the low growl of the mechanical beast rolled away like distant thunder, the group reformed in front of the establishment.

Gordon blinked towards John. "Blake, I want you to take Captain Jones and show him the situation. Have Fox explain the problem. Bring the rest in. Fiona and I will patrol out here. I have a feeling we won't be having company anytime soon, but _don't lull about_, got it?"

There was an unanimous nod and then it was just Fiona and Jim.

Jim gave a soft smile, handing the woman one of his pistols, before nodding towards her stomach. "Got any ideas for a name yet?"

A smile drifted onto her face. Fiona leaned against one of the snow covered cars parked against the curb before laughing a little. "I think _Bane Jr. _is off the list. I haven't really thought into it. I didn't really think I'd still be _alive _this far in."

Gordon humphed, his hand patting her shoulder. "You're doing good, Fiona."

She was silent for a moment.

"I'm terrified, Jim."

* * *

"It seems our _guests_ have arrived, Barsad."

Barsad quickly refocused the binoculars on the third floor. They were conversing with Ms. Tate at the moment, speaking in frantic tones with panicked eyes. There were four of them. The Captain, his men, and that Blake kid. A snarl came to his lips.

Such a young life gone to waste.

Bane adjusted his collar, smoothing down the matted fur of his coat. "Let us get a move on, Barsad."

Suddenly. the second-in-command froze.

"Sir."

Bane stopped mid-step, his eyes flicking over his shoulder and watching Barsad's frame go rigid.

"What is it?"

The man lowered the binoculars from his face, holding them out for the burly warlord to grasp.

"It's _her._"

Bane's breath caught in his throat. For a moment, his mask ceased to work and a crushed feeling overwhelmed him, robbing him of his own heartbeat. He snatched the binoculars, following Barsad's finger. _He would know that hair anywhere. Though, it's gotten longer..._

The binocular's fell to the ground in a clatter.

_Shock._

"We will make an example of them."

_Rage._

"But we will kill her first."

_Betrayal._

"She deserted us."

And Barsad simply nodded.

_So it shall be finished._

* * *

There was a sudden panic.

It was _him._

Sauntering proudly across the street, arms outstretched. Men flanked his sides, guns held up in their direction. FIona was frozen.

Gordon was screaming at her to get behind the car.

She couldn't hear him.

She only heard the hiss of the beast's mask.

_She only heard the hiss of __**her**__ beast's mask._

She blinked at him, head tilted.

He let an angered breath fall from his chest.

Fiona was the first to speak.

"You let the Commissioner go."

Bane, stepping forward, spoke indignantly. "I cannot allow that."

She spoke louder now, fiercer. "You _will allow it._"

He almost looked shocked. "And why is that?"

"Because the only thing between _you_ and _him, _is me," she concluded. Fists balled at her sides and hot tears pricked at her eyes. _Could he not tell_? _Could he not see the damn bump?_

"You act as if that is supposed to mean something to me, Dear little Fiona," Bane scoffed, "You act is though I am supposed to _care _after all this time—"

"It's not about _me _anymore, Bane."

And she turned. Her heavy winter coat was unzipped.

She jutted her hips and stomach out, displaying the swelled baby-bump.

"You let Jim go," she mumbled, her gaze falling to the ground, "You let Jim go, or you shoot me to get him."

Barsad's hold on his pistol weakened.

Bane was silent.

Gordon spoke up. "She _kept _your child, Bane. She's doing this for _the child_—"

"_Leave, _Commissioner. You've been dismissed," Bane spoke, his words clipped, "Though, I cannot say the same for Captain Jones' men."

Fiona's gaze flitted to Gordon's as Bane's men rushed around her and into the building. She choked quietly. An apology left her lips and Gordon just nodded, taking off down the snow covered sidewalk and ducking into an alley as gunshots rang out in the building.

It was just them now.

"Why did you do it?" his voice was quiet, "Why did you leave?"

She met him in the middle of the road, hands braced on the bump.

"I didn't," she shook her head, "I was arrested. Thrown in Blackgate. That's when I found out... That was the first month of all this. A-And... And I was so _angry _with you... _I felt betrayed._ But, I realized I couldn't dwell on it, Bane."

His green eyes moved from her own to her stomach. Calloused hands brushed against her shirt's material. He retracted quickly and she remembered what he had told her long ago. '_I was not built to be gentle_'.

"I realized there were innocent in this city. I realized _we _weren't all bad," Fiona mumbled, "I realized that this _baby _was innocent and this baby _needed _a place to grow up... A place to call home."

She grasped his hand, spreading his digits and splaying them against her tummy. The warlord went rigid, his breathing stopping momentarily. He... He looked terrified. Just as she had been...

"I cannot be a father."

"I'm not asking you to be," she shook her head, "I am asking you to let me fight _my fight,_ Bane."

"I cannot—"

Fiona shook her head, laughing a little. Her hand reached up, smoothing down his collar. The redhead sighed slightly. "You know, I missed you. I mean, I guess it's _we _now. I think this little bugger missed you too. Though, he didn't know you very long."

"How far along are you, Fiona?"

"Five months."

The silence was smug on Fiona's behalf.

"Then you will be escorted out of the city before it all happens."

"Bane—"

"I do not care. You are now under my care. Do not go anywhere. I have business to attend to," his fingers grazed her chin, his way of an affectionate gesture, "Barsad will see that you acquire more winter clothes and that you are fed."

He stomped off, motioning to Barsad. But, Fiona called out.

"Bane!"

He froze.

"Do you still have it?"

Bane reached into his chest pocket, pulling out her tattered copy of _Wuthering Heights._ Stalking over to her, he flipped the pages once, the corners of his eyes crinkling slightly in happiness.

"It has become my bible. I hope you do not mind. I marked some things as well."

Fiona gave him a smile. "Thank you."

"I shall be back in a moment. Stay put and stay out of trouble for once."

"No promises, boss."

* * *

**A/N: **

**OKAY THE ABORTION JOKE WAS SO FIONA-ESQUE I JUST HAD TO**

**Anyways, hi bbys! There's some fluff in store, heartbreak too... Also BABY NAMES. SO! I have a question for all of _you!_**

**_The baby! Any name ideas for Bane and Fiona?_**

**Gosh so. I hope y'all liked it! Please R&R! My dream is for this baby to exceed 300 reviews!**


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